


The Sisters

by TheUnknownAjax



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 90
Words: 96,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnknownAjax/pseuds/TheUnknownAjax
Summary: My version of season 2, written to rectify the travesty that was the end of season 1. It is roughly divided into different scenes to make up 8 episodes. I can guarantee there are happy endings – but for whom? And how convincing and satisfying are they?As my attempt at a proper season, the plot doesn't focus exclusively on Sidlotte; the minor characters play a part too, though the focus is mainly on the central couple. But I hope both Sidney and Stringer lovers will find something to enjoy here; I felt both men deserved a proper love story. I love Mr Stringer too much to relegate him to being just an afterthought or a foil to Sidney. And, as the name of my story suggests, Alison is not purely a sidekick in this one. This may also relate to the point about Mr Stringer mentioned just above…Ep 1: chapters 1-12Ep 2: chapters 13-23Ep 3: chapters 24-30Ep 4: chapters 31-38Ep 5: chapters 39-48Ep 6: chapters 49-58Ep 7: chapters 59-67Ep 8: chapters 68-85Bonus scenes: chapters 87-90
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Comments: 691
Kudos: 678





	1. Episode One

**EPISODE ONE: The Return**

She was not quite drowsing, but nor was she fully awake; she hovered in that warm, liquid, timeless state unique to waking dreams. She could hear the muted hum of voices far in the background and feel a light breeze whispering against her cheek from the nearby window. Her eyes were half-open, but she did not see anything that lay before her; her mind was far away in a distant time and place.

“Charlotte!”

Her sister’s voice cut through her reverie and Charlotte started, turning her head round to where her mother and Alison sat at the dining table, both armed with needles as they worked through the large pile of clothes that lay in front of them. The two figures were bathed in the golden afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, and she realised abruptly that they were the only ones here, where she could have sworn there had been three more of her sisters just before. She glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of her, still blank save one line at the top, her pen lying idly next to it. How long had she been dreaming?

“I beg your pardon – I wasn’t attending. What did you say?”

Charlotte saw her sister and mother exchange a meaningful look. “I was only asking how you found the dance the other night,” Alison replied, returning her attention to the patterns she was stitching on the hem of a little shirt for Rupert, their youngest brother.

Charlotte sought, in vain, to recall anything of note from the evening in question. “I thought it was lovely,” Charlotte replied, trying to infuse her words with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel.

“I suppose it was nothing compared to the balls in Sanditon?” Alison asked wistfully, glancing up at her.

“Oh… well, the balls at Sanditon were very beautiful,” Charlotte agreed, remembering the exquisite gowns and the lavish rooms – or so they had seemed to her inexperienced eye. “But I didn’t know that many people at most of them, and I do think one’s enjoyment of a dance is based chiefly on how agreeable the company is.”

“And how agreeable was the company in Sanditon, Charlotte?” asked her mother, with a smile.

An image of a stern, handsome face rose unbidden to Charlotte’s mind and she felt a sudden lump in her throat. She swallowed painfully. “I’ve already told you,” she said, with an attempt at a smile. “Everyone was very kind.” _Most of the time, at least_ , she thought to herself, looking back down at the page in front of her. She volunteered nothing further and, after a little pause, as if waiting for her to say more, Alison and her mother took up another topic and the conversation flowed on without her.

\---

Charlotte had been looking forward to returning to the comforting familiarity of her hometown and family. But even though she had been back for several months now, she still had not fallen back into the easy routine of her life before Sanditon. She recognised that her loving family was just the same: boisterous, warm and affectionate. It was she who had changed.

Since her return, she had busied herself most days with whatever tasks she could find, seeking to drive the painful events of Sanditon from her mind. She had volunteered to assist wherever she could: her father’s plans to renovate his tenants’ cottages, her mother’s current philanthropic endeavour, her younger siblings’ schooling. She had found some relief in these exertions, converting her restless energy into a useful channel and allowing her mind no opportunity to roam free. If she could occupy her mind and her days enough, perhaps in time the memories of Sanditon would simply fade away.

Yet she found she could not bear to relinquish them entirely. Every now and then she would be seized by a need to get away from it all, the constant presence of so many siblings suddenly threatening to suffocate her. In the confusion of so many people it was not too difficult to slip away unobserved, taking long walks or simply going out to sit in a secluded area, alone with her thoughts. At such times she would seek out solitude expressly to lose herself in her memories, flying away to that other world until she came back to herself and felt her cheeks wet with tears.

It seemed she could not decide whether to savour the memories, preserving each one like a precious keepsake, or to burn them all wholesale and make a break with the past.

\---

Today, sitting slightly apart from her mother and sister as they continued to work their way industriously through the pile of clothing that needed attention, conversing easily as they worked, she felt as blank as the page before her. She was simply finding it impossible to focus on any of the tasks she had set herself. So far she had resolutely started sorting through her father’s accounts, attempted to write a letter and, most recently, set about solving a particularly difficult math problem of her brother’s. Each time, she found herself gazing off into the distance, replaying a certain dance, or a boat ride, or a walk along the clifftops. With a sigh she abandoned the algebra equation she had failed to make any progress on and asked her mother if there was anything she could get her from the village. Alison looked up and set aside the shirt she had been working on. “I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind, Charlotte? I have a letter to post to Johnny.”


	2. Chapter 2

In a few minutes they had set out on the well-worn track that led from their house to the village. They walked in silence for a while, avoiding the wagon ruts in the path with practised ease as birds flitted through the hedgerows beside them and lambs in the distance bleated their misery at being separated from their mothers. Charlotte was glad of the opportunity to feel the sunshine on her face and breathe in the pungent country smells, while thinking of nothing in particular. Such a spring day, clear and sharp, with the promise of summer in the breeze, used to be a day guaranteed to send her spirits soaring. Now, however, always in the background, there lurked the dull ache she carried with her wherever she went. No matter how beautiful the day, the sunshine seemed permanently dimmed, the hues of the countryside duller than she remembered. It took more of an effort to smile these days, and her laugh did not come as readily as it used to.

“Charlotte, I know something is wrong,” Alison suddenly spoke up.

Charlotte turned to her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“With you,” responded Alison. “You’ve not been the same since you returned from Sanditon. You might fool all the others, but I can tell you’re unhappy. I do wish you would tell me what happened there.”

“I have!” protested Charlotte. “I’ve told all of you about the sea bathing, and the balls, and the different people there.”

“And the fire,” agreed Alison. “But that’s not the cause of your unhappiness. It’s more personal than that. Isn’t it?” She gazed at Charlotte, who averted her eyes uncomfortably, fixing them ahead. They walked in silence again for a short distance.

“Do you want to know what I think?” asked Alison.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me regardless.” Charlotte tried for a light, teasing tone but it came out sharper than she’d intended.

Alison continued undeterred. “I think something happened with this mysterious Sidney Parker,” she pronounced, watching Charlotte closely. Whatever she saw in Charlotte’s countenance seemed to satisfy her, for she nodded and said, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Charlotte had felt a thrill go through her at the mention of his name, but she feigned incredulity as she responded, “Sidney Parker? What makes you say that? I’ve hardly spoken of him at all!”

“Exactly,” replied Alison firmly. “It’s too painful for you to speak of.”

Charlotte was lost for words. She had thought she had concealed her heartsickness admirably – but Alison had always been perceptive, and the sister she was closest with.

“You don’t have to bear this burden alone,” Alison said gently. “I’m sure it would do you good to tell your tale to someone. And I promise I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone. We always used to share all our secrets with each other, didn’t we?”

Charlotte battled internally for a few moments. She could not tell if relaying the full story to Alison would help her in her quest to move on or simply rekindle feelings that were best left untouched. “It’s all in the past, Alison,” she sighed eventually. “There’s no point in dwelling on it now.”

“But that doesn’t stop _you_ dwelling on it, does it?” Alison pressed. “Perhaps if you tell someone it will help you to put it behind you.”

The prospect of unburdening herself to Alison did sound attractive, but all at once Charlotte felt unutterably weary. “I will tell you, Alison,” she promised softly. “Just not today.”


	3. Chapter 3

The topic was not brought up again until several days later, when an unexpected letter arrived.

“Who do you suppose has written, Charlotte?” asked Mrs Heywood mysteriously as Charlotte entered the sitting room one evening, when all the younger children had gone to bed.

“I can’t imagine!” she replied, though several possibilities immediately sprang to mind.

“Lady Denham!” her mother pronounced, observing the effect this startling intelligence might produce.

Charlotte stared back in bewilderment. “Whatever could she want?” Lady Denham’s name had not been among the likely candidates her mind had presented.

“Read it out, mother!” urged Alison.

Mrs Heywood looked questioningly at Charlotte, who merely gazed back enquiringly and took a seat by the table in preparation to listen. Mrs Heywood held up the letter and put on her reading glasses. “Let’s see, picking up after the various pleasantries – well!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Would you listen to this! I would be pleased to receive your eldest daughter, Charlotte, to stay for the season …”

“Ah, _that_ eldest daughter,” interposed Mr Heywood drily.

Mrs Heywood sent her husband a quelling look and continued reading, “and one of her sisters!” Alison’s eyes flew to her mother’s face at that, then across to Charlotte, who could read the excitement in them. Charlotte herself sat in stunned silence as her mother continued to read out the details of the invitation. She felt a little light-headed, and was glad she had been sitting when she learned the contents of the letter.

“Oh!” Alison breathed when her mother had finished. “What do you think, Charlotte?” Her enthusiasm was palpable.

Charlotte was momentarily speechless. “That’s very generous of Lady Denham!” she replied with unfeigned surprise, deliberately avoiding Alison’s real question.

“Indeed! It does not at all seem in keeping with her character, according to your account of her,” said Mr Heywood quizzically, looking at Charlotte over the top of his newspaper with his eyebrows raised.

“Did you get along so well with her?” asked Mrs Heywood, echoing her husband’s puzzlement. “That was not the impression I received.”

“I did not think so,” said Charlotte, her brow crinkled. “Indeed, I am as surprised as you – I never expected such an invitation from her, of all people!”

“You did mention that both her companions left her before you came home,” said Alison hesitantly.

“True – I suppose that must be it,” said Charlotte thoughtfully. “Perhaps she just wants some company now she has no relatives near her.”

“And what of her proposal? Do you want to go back to Sanditon again, after you were just there last summer?” asked Mr Heywood, frowning as he folded up his newspaper and set it aside, clearly not pleased with the idea.

“I cannot say,” said Charlotte slowly. “I must think on it a while.”

“We must not keep Lady Denham waiting too long for a response,” her mother cautioned her. “She writes that you may visit as early as next week, and stay until the end of the season if you like! Not that we wish to be rid of you, darling, but whether it’s a yes or no you must decide soon.”

Alison looked searchingly at Charlotte, but said nothing further. Alison’s desire to go was obvious. As for herself, she was torn.

While there had been no prospect of returning to Sanditon, the only course of action seemed to be to put it all behind her and banish it from her mind. Now, with this invitation bidding her return, she was suddenly seized with a fierce longing to see her dear friends again – all the strange and wonderful people who had made her last summer such an unforgettable experience. The excitement of another season in Sanditon beckoned, as did the prospect of reuniting with Tom Parker’s family, who had become so close to her as to seem like a second family.

On the other hand, she was not at all sure her heart was ready for such a speedy return. Such a visit would inevitably reopen wounds that were only starting to heal. Sanditon was the place where she had found love, and lost it again. Everywhere she went, reminders of him would be sure to follow. If she could not escape the memory of him here in Willingden, how much more so in Sanditon – where his siblings still resided, and where his name was bound to come up in conversation? If his unseen presence haunted her steps here, how much more in the place where they had met, and talked, and walked together, and – but she must not think of that.

As for the danger of running into him in person, she knew the risk was small. Charlotte had received a letter from Georgiana a little while after she had left Sanditon, informing her that Georgiana too was preparing for an imminent departure in order to undertake a Grand Tour, accompanied by her guardian, Sidney Parker, and an elderly widow named Mrs Tattersail. Mrs Griffiths, as Georgiana explained in her letter, had received a completely unexpected offer of marriage from Mr Hankins – completely unexpected to Mrs Griffiths, at least, if to no one else.

Georgiana had not met her new chaperone yet at the time of writing to Charlotte, but her expectations were predictably low. “From the gorgon to an ancient crone – what will Sidney think of next to saddle me with? An evil witch?” Georgiana made no attempts to disguise her disgust at the prospect of such travelling companions, but she did at least seem to view the impending voyage with favour, if only to escape from the confines of Sanditon. “For,” she had written, “now that you are gone, Charlotte, I have no friend here at all.”

Georgiana indicated that they planned to be away for about a year, so there should be little chance of any encounter with Sidney Parker. It was this circumstance that enabled her to even consider the prospect of returning – she doubted she would have entertained the notion if she knew she must meet him there.

In the end, however, it was not her own feelings that decided the matter.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlotte knew the time had come to fulfil her promise and tell Alison about the events in Sanditon, so the day after receiving the letter from Lady Denham, the two sisters ventured out on the pretext of gathering some flowers to decorate the house. There, lying in the middle of a field on an unseasonably warm spring day, Charlotte finally shared with Alison an account of all the events from her time away – all save one or two, that is. There were still some memories she was not willing to share with anyone.

Alison listened without interrupting– though her expressions at times spoke volumes – until Charlotte reached the end of her unhappy tale. Still she sat in silence for a little while, until Charlotte could take it no longer, raising herself up onto one elbow and asking, “Well – what do you think?”

“What do I think?” repeated Alison, pensively, adding another flower to the end of her daisy chain. “I have so many thoughts I hardly know where to start! What a time you had! So many wonderful adventures – as well as some truly frightening ones! I do not know how you found the courage to go to London by yourself – I shouldn’t think I could have done that. I do not wonder you never mentioned that escapade to our parents,” she said pointedly. “And yet –” she sighed. “It’s rather a tragic affair, Charlotte. To have such happiness so nearly within your grasp – and yet to be denied it. It seems cruel.” Her face darkened. “I must say, from what you have said, this Mrs Campion sounds dreadful! How can Mr Parker _stand_ her, let alone pledge himself to her?”

Charlotte shook her head miserably. Alison was voicing what she herself had wrestled with countless times over the last few months. “They have a history together, Alison,” she finally managed.

Alison snorted. “Yes, a history of betrayal and heartbreak – hardly a propitious foundation on which to build a relationship! Come – has she any redeeming qualities?”

Charlotte opened her mouth and closed it again. “She is very elegant,” she said lamely. Alison looked unimpressed.

“Oh, I hardly know her, Alison! I expect she improves upon closer acquaintance.” Charlotte knew even as the words left her mouth that she did not believe them. “Besides, I’m hardly an impartial observer.” She grimaced. “I have more reason than anyone to dislike her.”

Alison regarded her sceptically, her head tilted. “Yet if you respected her, you would own to it, Charlotte. I am convinced you would not let your feelings for Mr Parker blind you to Mrs Campion’s good points. No, it will not do – if even _you_ cannot find something good to say about her, the situation must be dire indeed.” She paused. “I pity your Mr Parker.”

 _As do I_ , Charlotte thought, but she remained silent. It was too painful still to speak of her own feelings on the subject.

“And as for the central character in all this, Mr Sidney Parker himself …” Alison sighed. “You may not like this, but I cannot but feel that he has treated you very ill, Charlotte.” she said. Charlotte opened her mouth to defend him but Alison cut her off. “No, no, no – I know that he engaged himself to that woman to save Tom and his family from debtors’ prison. I do not fault him for that – how could anyone?” She furrowed her brow, starting to shred the daisy chain she had completed. “But how could he have given you such unmistakeable signs of his feelings for you, yet failed to declare himself? It was not right.”

“Well,” Charlotte replied hesitantly, “as it happens, I believe he was in the process of declaring himself at the midsummer ball, when Sir Edward so rudely interrupted.”

“Oh.” Alison took this in. “Well, should I direct all my wrath at Sir Edward then?”

“Indeed you should,” Charlotte said with a smile. “As much as you like. He has the worst timing of anyone I have ever met.” Alison giggled at this, and Charlotte found herself laughing too, more than the comment warranted, feeling a kind of release and a lightness such as she had not felt since her return home.


	5. Chapter 5

They were gathering up their collection of flowers in preparation to return home when Alison straightened and said, “Oh, and one more thing – I think it was shockingly indiscreet of you to relate all of Georgiana’s adventures to someone you’d only just met!”

Charlotte looked at her in confusion.

“Just think of it, Charlotte! It would have been a very poor business if Lady Susan had turned out to be a tattlemonger, and created just such a scandal about poor Georgiana that Sidney Parker was seeking to avoid.”

“Well, I confess that never occurred to me – until now! Thankfully she was nothing of the sort!” replied Charlotte a little tartly, brushing the grass off her clothes.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there now. I am glad no harm was done.” Alison shook out her skirts and they began to walk back. After a little silence, Alison asked with studied nonchalance, “So what do you plan to do about Lady Denham’s invitation?”

Charlotte cast a knowing glance at Alison. “What would you have me do, Alison?”

Alison smiled a little guiltily. “I’m sure I need not tell you what I would prefer – indeed, one could say it is your fault for giving us such a fine account of the place! Although now that I know more about your time there, I can understand your reluctance to return. But…” she continued hesitantly, with an unmistakeable note of hope in her voice, “did you not say that he was gone abroad with his ward? And that they were not expected back for some time yet?”

“I did,” replied Charlotte with a wry smile.

“Then that obstacle is removed, surely? There need be no dread for you in going back there?”

“Oh, Alison,” sighed Charlotte. “It is not just him – it is the place where it all happened. His family is still there, and all my memories of him – of us.” She paused before saying more softly, almost as if to herself, “He may not be there in person, but I know I will not be able to walk those streets without thinking of him at every turn.” She suddenly realised how dramatic she sounded, and laughed self-deprecatingly. “So you see, the situation is quite hopeless!”

Alison furrowed her brows. “Well, but … what if going back will enable you to create new memories of the place? You might have some new adventures there, without him in them. Maybe it is exactly what you need to start afresh!”

“Some new adventures with you instead, perhaps?” suggested Charlotte with a smile, one brow raised.

Alison’s eyes lit up. “Yes, indeed! It sounds infinitely more lively than another summer here!”

Charlotte had to laugh. “Your concern for me does you credit, Alison! You are all disinterested generosity! You wish me to return solely for my own benefit, I can see that!”

Alison laughed ruefully in return. “Am I that transparent? Oh dear, I expect I am being very selfish. I would not want to cause you pain, Charlotte – we need not go. Indeed, it would not be so bad staying here instead, I’m sure!”

Charlotte looked sideways at her sister, now walking with her eyes downcast, her expression belying her attempt at a light tone. They walked in silence for a few moments, before Charlotte said reflectively, “Yet you do make some very valid points, Alison.” She took a deep breath. “Very well then – let us accept Lady Denham’s invitation.”

Alison caught her breath and looked up at her. “Do you mean it?”

Charlotte smiled back at her affectionately. “By all means! Let us go and create some new memories of Sanditon – the two of us this time!”

Still Alison hesitated, searching her face closely. “Are you quite sure?”

“Alison,” said Charlotte warningly, “I have said we shall go, and go we shall! Now you had better hurry and tell them all back home before I change my mind!”

“Oh, Charlotte – best of sisters! Thank you!” exclaimed Alison as she embraced her warmly, before catching up her skirts and hastening ahead to convey Charlotte’s decision to the rest of their family.

Charlotte smiled to see her go, but her smile soon faded as she followed slowly behind, wondering what this choice would mean for her. She had made it mainly from love for Alison, seeing the strength of her sister’s desire to visit Sanditon. As far as it concerned herself, she could not tell if it would prove to be wisdom or folly. Well, the choice had been made now – she would find out soon enough what would come of it.


	6. Chapter 6

The two sisters wasted no time in packing their bags in preparation for departure, starting the very next day.

“Perhaps when we’re in Sanditon we may have an opportunity to visit Johnny,” said Alison pensively, as she folded some undergarments. Alison’s twin brother had departed for London some weeks prior to carry out some business matters on behalf of their father and, for his own part, to see if he could gain recognition as a painter in the artistic circles there.

“Perhaps,” said Charlotte, though it had not occurred to her previously. “Why?”

“I should dearly like to know more about how he fares. He has hardly written, and the two letters we have received have been the merest scrawl.”

“You’re worried about Johnny?” Charlotte asked in surprise, feeling a stab of guilt. She realised she had been so wrapped up in her own heartache she had not been paying as much attention to the rest of her family.

“I do have some… misgivings,” Alison admitted, frowning as she wrestled a troublesome petticoat into submission. “You know what he is – he’s always been a little wild, too free with his friendship, and his judgement is not the best.”

“He is just… carefree,” replied Charlotte with a smile. “And our uncle will be there to guide him and help him as necessary.”

Alison looked unconvinced. “Our uncle means well, I know, but I don’t expect he will have that much sway over Johnny’s behaviour. He can be quite a heedless, foolish boy.”

“Johnny is not a boy anymore, Alison – he’s a young man now,” Charlotte reminded her sister – thought she should hardly need reminding, given he was only younger than Alison by a matter of minutes. “I’m sure he will be quite alright. In any case, it’s only for a few months,” she said reassuringly.

“Well, a great deal can happen in a few months,” Alison replied, and Charlotte fell silent. She could not deny the truth of that.

\---

Later that day, her father found her alone in the room she shared with her sisters.

“A moment, Charlotte,” he said, coming in as she was trying on different bonnets in front of the mirror to decide which to take. She turned to him enquiringly. “So, you are to leave us again, my dear?” he said in a tone of regret.

“Yes, but only until season’s end,” she replied with a reassuring smile.

“Hmm, that’s as may be,” he said, and she saw that he looked troubled.

“What is it, Papa?” she asked.

He hesitated, then spoke gravely, fixing her with one of his penetrating stares. “Are you quite certain you are happy to return to Sanditon? I do not want you to feel obliged to accept Lady Denham’s invitation, either for her sake or for Alison’s. They can both manage perfectly well if you stay here.” He paused, then continued more slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “If there is anything … giving you pause in returning to Sanditon, you should feel no compunction in simply politely declining the invitation.”

“Oh, Papa,” Charlotte responded, feeling an absurd desire to cry as a surge of affection for her father ran through her. Of course he had guessed more than he had let on; she and her father had always shared a special bond. “It will be quite alright – I promise you. I am confident Alison and I will both have an excellent time.”

He gently clasped her by the shoulders, gazing into her eyes. “Just make sure you consult your own desires on the matter. Do not be ruled by what would make others happy.”

“I am sure it will do me good,” she replied firmly, and she was, in fact, almost sure.

Her father nodded and kissed her tenderly on the forehead before enfolding her in an embrace. “Very well, my love. If you are sure, then I am satisfied.”

**\---**

They left three days later, one of them eager to be off, the other feeling almost as if this might be a dream. As Charlotte sat across from Alison in the carriage Lady Denham had sent for them, she could see in her sister’s face a reflection of the same anticipation she had felt a year ago, riding with Mr and Mrs Parker to an exotic new location, her imagination bursting with possibilities of the untold adventures awaiting her there.

Had that only been a year ago? It could have been a decade. So much had happened in those few short months in Sanditon; so much had changed.

Her hopes now, on her return to Sanditon, chiefly concerned her sister: that Alison would get a taste of the freedom and the variety that Sanditon had to offer – without the bitter heartache. As for herself, she only hoped that Alison was right, and that the scenes of her heartbreak might lose some of their potency and new memories grow to replace them; that Sidney Parker would soon become a name that dwelt only in her past, and no longer overshadowed her present.


	7. Chapter 7

If their journey there was to be an omen of the rest of their time in Sanditon, it boded ill. Bad weather made their progress slow and reduced their outlook to the rain sliding down the carriage windows. To make matters worse, spring floods forced the carriage to make a lengthy detour along a poorly maintained road, the vigorous jolting leaving them feeling battered and bruised even in Lady Denham’s well-sprung equipage, and then, just as the weather seemed to be improving and they thought the worst must be behind them, one of the horses threw a shoe, resulting in a wait of several hours until it could be reshod.

Both sisters bore the inconveniences with fortitude. They made sure to put the time to good use, Charlotte racking her brains to provide Alison with as much detail as she could summon to prepare her for the various people and places she was to encounter shortly, Alison seeking to commit it all to memory. As for the delays along the way, Alison’s eagerness to see the place she had heard so much about transformed all the mishaps into diverting tales to write home about, while Charlotte, who was more inclined to view the greyness of the skies as an echo of her own mood, found herself looking forward to their arrival more than she had in all the time since receiving Lady Denham’s letter – if only to be able to enjoy a warm fire and comfortable bed after such a dreary time of it.

If Charlotte had been hoping for a tender reunion with Lady Denham after the trials of the journey, however, she was to be disappointed. That worthy individual was in a foul mood when they arrived at her manor sometime after dusk, and made no attempts to conceal it.

“So you have deigned to honour me with your presence, finally, the pair of you?” she greeted them testily as they were shown into the parlour, weary and travel-stained. “I trust you will endeavour to show a higher regard for punctuality throughout the rest of your stay here than you have tonight!”

Indignation rose in Charlotte at the injustice of this rebuke, even as Lady Denham’s irritability appealed to her sense of humour – their frosty reception seemed such a fitting conclusion to the misery of the journey. Well aware as she was of their position as invited guests, she judged it wisest to respond in a placatory manner.

“We do apologise, Lady Denham – we had such a run of misfortune on the way here: the poor weather slowed us considerably, and we were forced to alter our course to avoid some flooding, and then one of the horses –“

“Yes, yes, alright,” Lady Denham interrupted impatiently. “Do you think I want to hear your whole travel story? You are not the only ones to have suffered a most disagreeable day, you know!”

She directed her piercing glare to Alison, who stood meekly by Charlotte’s side. “You must be the sister.”

“One of them, my lady,” responded Alison demurely, bobbing a graceful curtsy.

“Am I to expect _more_?” Lady Denham did not sound pleased at the prospect.

“No, no, it is just the two of us here,” Charlotte intervened hastily. “Thank you for your kindness in inviting us both to stay with you!”

“Yes, well, don’t make me regret it,” Lady Denham snapped pettishly. She continued in a milder tone, “One of the servants will show you to your rooms and provide some supper for you.”

The two sisters thanked her politely.

“As for me – I am going to bed,” she pronounced. “ You don’t get to be my age with looks like these unless you get enough sleep, you know. I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast – and don’t be too late, mind!” With a final warning glare, she made her stately way past them as they curtsied, both of them breathing a sigh of relief not to be honoured with her presence any longer.

“I hope it wasn’t a mistake for us to come,” Alison whispered apprehensively as they were shown to their rooms shortly afterward.

“She can be perfectly amiable,” Charlotte said reassuringly. “I’m sure something has happened to disturb her, that’s all.”

Alison did not look convinced, but after a quick wash and a hearty meal, they were both too tired to dwell on their dubious welcome or worry about the rest of their time in Sanditon, but fell quickly into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning, they woke to weather as dismal as it had been throughout their journey. They were relieved, however, to find their hostess in a much more agreeable mood when they presented themselves for breakfast – making sure to do so at a reasonable hour. She enquired after their health and their family, and was generally so much milder than the night before that Charlotte could see Alison visibly relaxing, and was herself sufficiently emboldened to ask if anything in particular had occurred the day before to cause Lady Denham distress.

“Oh, nothing that need concern you, my dear,” replied Lady Denham dismissively, slathering some butter on her piece of toast. “Business matters – always these infernal business matters. I have no desire to speak of them. Indeed, I have no desire to dwell on anything unpleasant any longer than is strictly necessary. So, Miss Heywood –” and it was clear the subject was at an end – “are you happy to be back in Sanditon? I was confident you would wish to return – you seemed well pleased with the place when last you visited. Let me guess: you failed in your bid for a husband and jumped at the chance to come back for a second try, eh?”

“No, my lady,” replied Charlotte with a laugh, “I simply enjoyed Sanditon so much that I was eager for another chance to visit!”

“Hmph – so you say,” Lady Denham replied sceptically. “And what about you, Miss Alison – are you come to seek an advantageous match? Or do you deny it, like your sister?”

Alison hesitated, looking back at Lady Denham with a mischievous little smile on her lips. Charlotte recognised the dangerous gleam in her eye and replied hastily on her behalf. “I’m sure Alison has no thoughts of marriage either, ma’am; I simply gave such a good report of the place that she was determined to see it for herself!”

“Ah, a good report of the place – and of the men here too, no doubt? Well, Miss Alison? What say you? Will you admit that you are on the hunt for some gentleman to claim your hand? Come now, no need to be coy.”

“In that case, ma’am, I shall confess it,” Alison replied gravely. “It is indeed my heart’s desire to secure a wealthy husband – preferably one with a title, if at all possible.”

“You are very forthright!” declared Lady Denham, as if affronted, quite oblivious to any intended humour in the reply. She clearly had not been prepared for such a response. “At least you don’t attempt to dissemble. I can’t abide falsity. Well – you have a lofty ambition indeed! I do not fault you for that. Still, my dear, there’s precious little chance of it happening, I should say. To secure such a prize you must be endowed with either great beauty or impeccable birth – neither of which you possess, I’m sorry to say.”

“I’m sure you are right, ma’am,” said Alison meekly, accepting the blighting of her life’s ambition with admirable equanimity. “In that case, I shall simply focus on enjoying the delights that Sanditon has to offer.” So saying, she bent her head, picked up her spoon and remained very quiet for the rest of the meal.

“You mustn’t make jokes like that, Alison,” Charlotte warned her later when they were alone in Charlotte’s room, “Lady Denham will take you quite at your word – as you have witnessed!”

“Indeed, I must heed my own counsel and put a bridle on my tongue!” Alison said ruefully. “But don’t you think she is very rude, putting such questions and statements to us so baldly?”

“I did warn you what she would be like,” Charlotte chided her gently.

“How do people here stand for it?” Alison asked indignantly.

“Her fortune is large enough to excuse any incivility in her manner,” Charlotte said wryly.

Alison acknowledged this with a grimace. “I will try to be more careful, Charlotte.”


	9. Chapter 9

Their second day in Sanditon dawned clear and bright and they ventured into the town to make the most of the fine weather. Alison exclaimed over all the different shops, revelling in the variety of the goods on display and the convenience of it all. Charlotte was glad to see the well-populated streets; she judged there to be even more people than there had been the previous year, many of them quite modish. It seemed the town was doing well, despite the calamity that had befallen it so recently.

They were just coming out of a milliner’s shop when Charlotte spotted a familiar face. Her eyes lit up and she smiled a warm greeting, as Alison suddenly fell silent beside her. “Mr Stringer!”

“Miss Heywood!” He looked thunderstruck for a moment, stopping dead in his tracks, before a broad grin spread across his handsome face and he walked slowly to meet them. “What a pleasant surprise! I didn’t know if you’d be coming back here! It is very good to see you again, miss.”

“Well, I was in two minds about it, I confess, but my sister prevailed upon me to return.” She smiled sunnily up at him. “May I present my sister to you: Miss Alison Heywood.”

Mr Stringer smiled warmly at Alison. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Miss Heywood.”

Alison coloured slightly as she smiled back at him, curtsying.

“So we have you to thank for bringing Miss Charlotte back to Sanditon,” Mr Stringer said to Alison in his friendly way.

Charlotte saw that Alison seemed to be stricken with one of her occasional bouts of shyness, and answered for her. “Well, Lady Denham also had a small part to play.”

“Lady Denham?” Mr Stringer looked a question at her.

“We are here at her invitation, staying with her until the end of the season,” explained Charlotte.

“Oh! And how do you like it there?”

Charlotte said confidingly, “Lady Denham is very good to us, but I’m obliged to own it is not quite as comfortable as staying with Mr and Mrs Parker. With them I could be quite at ease, but with Lady Denham it feels as if we must be a little more careful with our behaviour!”

“I can imagine that,” he said with a grin.

Just then, Charlotte was hailed with a hearty greeting by Mr Robinson as he passed by, and went over to renew her acquaintance with him.

Mr Stringer turned to Alison with a friendly smile. “And how are you finding Sanditon House, miss?”

She had recovered her countenance, and smiled back at him shyly. “I’ve never seen anything so grand,” she said simply. “I thought Charlotte must have exaggerated when she told us about Lady Denham’s manor, but now I think she hardly did it justice. I don’t think I shall ever get used to staying there.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon enough,” Mr Stringer replied reassuringly.

“I hope you may be right – although I doubt it,” she responded ruefully. “At present I feel like an interloper, as if the servants may discover me there one day and simply turn me out.”

“That would be a fine thing, Lady Denham sending one of her own invited guests packing,” he said with a chuckle. “I hope it may not come to that.”

Charlotte rejoined them then, enquiring eagerly how the building work was coming along.

“It’s making good progress. Has Mr Parker shown you round it since you’ve been back?”

“We have not seen Mr Parker yet,” Charlotte replied. Indeed, Lady Denham had informed them that Tom and Mary were away in London for a few days, but that they were eager for the sisters to call on them as soon as they were back in Sanditon.

“Well, would you like to see it now?” he offered.

“Oh, yes please!” said Charlotte, so he led them to the scene that not so long ago had been just a smoking ruin.

The site had undergone a radical transformation. The charred building husk had been removed, and all that was left of the devastation was the ghostly smear of soot on some of the adjacent buildings.

In its place there now rose the grand edifice of the new building, towering over the muddy roadway, an impressive structure of solid brick and stone, clean straight lines and tall windows.

“You wouldn't have seen much of the damage up close, but there was a significant number of the rafters that needed replacing, and we had to redo a good deal of the facing work,” Mr Stringer said, pointing out the ridgeline where the new roof was coming together, a skeleton of wooden beams and trusses. “I much prefer the new style myself, less ostentatious. I don't suppose you'd like to have a closer look at it?” he asked. The sisters nodded eagerly.

“Right, this way then – oh, and mind the steps, they're still unfinished, and can be a little slippery when it's wet.” Mr Stringer led them across the yard and into the interior of the building. High above them, they could hear the footsteps of the workmen, the whistling, hammering and sawing. Dust hung in the air, little motes dancing in the sunlight that streamed through the opened windows.

“This here will likely be where the grand staircase winds up to the upper stories. This being just an apartment, it's not as grand as some of the other fancy ones around here, what with twin staircases, one for going up and another for coming down, but we're a little pressed for space, and having such an extravagant entrance is beginning to seem a bit vulgar – although don't tell Lady Denham I said that.”

“We shouldn’t dream of it!” Charlotte assured him, exchanging a laughing look with Alison.

Mr Stringer led them across to the back, where the servants’ quarters were. “We've finished the stairs for the regular folk, so if you like we can take a look upstairs.” He pointed toward one of the smaller doors and followed them up the narrow staircase, past simple landings leading off to dimly-lit corridors where the servants would live.

“This will all be polished and carpeted," Mr Stringer said as they followed him across the wooden floorboards, stepping over wood shavings and buckets of plaster. The smell of fresh paint and sawdust couldn't quite mask the background note of smoke that lingered even next to the open window. Charlotte wondered how long it would take to fade.

They looked out across the town to the beach, seeing the sun glinting on the water as white clouds dotted a sky of brilliant blue, and Alison breathed softly, “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

“It is indeed, miss,” said Mr Stringer. “Is this your first glimpse of the sea?”

Alison nodded, her eyes still fixed dreamily on the scene in front of her.

“It’s not a view I think you could ever tire of seeing,” he said, gazing out beside her. He seemed to come back to himself, turning to Charlotte and saying, “This here apartment I think is the better of the ones on offer, since it has that view.” He paused, gazing down at his hand, resting on the windowsill. “Did you miss it?” he asked, looking back up at her a little shyly.

“I did,” replied Charlotte, smiling up at him. “And I’m glad to be back.”

They took their leave of Mr Stringer shortly afterward and enjoyed the rest of their time in town. The sight of the sea must have exercised a powerful effect on Alison, though, as Charlotte noticed that same dreamy look come over her face more than once over the course of the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my husband, who wrote the basis for the description of the building site!


	10. Chapter 10

Two days later, Tom and Mary were back, and Lady Denham went with her guests to call on them for tea. They received a warm welcome, Tom and Mary coming out to greet them as soon as the carriage pulled up outside the house.

“Charlotte!” exclaimed Mary, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “We are so pleased to see you again! How have you been?” She held Charlotte at arm’s length and gazed at her searchingly.

“Very well, thank you,” replied Charlotte with the brightest smile she could summon.

“And how lovely that your sister could join you!” Mary turned to Alison with a warm smile.

“Welcome, welcome, Miss Alison Heywood!” said Tom jauntily. “Delighted to have you here. And welcome back, Charlotte! So – you couldn’t stay away, eh? I knew you’d be back as soon as you could!” He winked at her. “Everyone who stays here must fall in love with the place – as you too will discover before long, my dear!” he said, addressing Alison.

“I think I may have already!” she replied earnestly, thus earning his instant approbation.

“Ah – come in, come in, Lady Denham,” he said, quickly turning to her ladyship and leading her in as she made to enter the house. Mary followed, showing the sisters inside the house Charlotte knew so well. Not so long ago she had almost been part of the family here; now she returned as a visitor. As she passed through the entranceway she could feel the pull of the portrait on the wall, and was powerless to stop her eyes seeking out the face there and dwelling on it. Alison paused beside her too, looking up at the solemn face that gazed down at the two of them.

“Is that Sidney Parker?” Alison muttered in a disparaging tone. She was clearly not impressed.

“The picture doesn’t do him justice,” Charlotte felt compelled to say, a little defensively, as they moved through to the sitting room.

Mary enquired solicitously after their family back home, but the talk quickly turned to Sanditon after Charlotte remarked on the number of people they had seen during their stroll the other day.

“Here we go,” Lady Denham muttered, with a roll of her eyes, as Tom proceeded to hold forth on the current state of the town, characteristically anxious to share with them all the recent developments the place had undergone. Rebuilding was proceeding apace; apartments were being sold to satisfaction; there were several interested investors; many of Lady Worcester’s acquaintances had returned and some were even planning on hiring houses for the season.

“I’m so happy to hear it!” Charlotte said eagerly. “And has there been any visit yet from the Prince Regent – that is, the King?” she corrected herself.

Tom’s smile faltered. “Still no luck yet in getting the new King to visit – but once we have rebuilt, we will have a destination to rival even the famed Brighton! It’s only a matter of time!”

Tom was not given the opportunity to continue his discourse just then, as his children happened to arrive back at that moment from the walk they had been on with their nanny. Upon discovering that Charlotte was back, the three older ones ran in pell-mell to accost her, hugging her enthusiastically and conveying their own accounts of the significant events since she had been there last. Charlotte laughed, embraced them all and listened attentively to all the tidings they relayed. Observing that their elderly visitor was not inclined to look as graciously on his children’s presence as their younger guests, however, Tom peremptorily ordered the children outside, whereupon they begged Charlotte if she and her sister might accompany them. Both sisters being happy to oblige, all the younger members of the household were soon removed from the house and engaged in activities of such mock violence that their mother would have been shocked if she had known of them.


	11. Chapter 11

Lady Denham settled herself more comfortably, raised her cup to her lips and asked her hosts how they found her new guest.

“She seems a sweet girl!” proclaimed Mary, looking out just as Alison obligingly fell down in a posture of death from the fatal thrust of a stick.

“Yes, I believe she can be quite charming, like her sister, despite their tendency to be a trifle … outspoken at times,” said Lady Denham drily. She turned to Tom. “Mr Parker, have you any news of Sir Melbourne?”

“Ah yes, we saw him in London – we are to expect him back within a fortnight, I believe,” replied Tom, with a smile.

“Good,” said Lady Denham. “I am planning to host a dinner party once he is back, with him as the guest of honour. The theme will be the Russian Empire, in recognition of the time he spent there. You will both be invited, of course. I trust he may enjoy himself tolerably well with my lovely new guests to assist me. He is a single man, is he not?”

Mary drew her brows together, hoping she did not understand Lady Denham correctly. “How is his marital status of any relevance?”

Lady Denham looked at her as if she were remarkably obtuse. “As Mr Parker has observed numerous times, men of fashion need attractions to encourage them to stay in a resort such as this. Sir Melbourne is one of the most valuable assets this town has at present, and I mean to do what I can to tempt him to stay.” She shrugged. “Or, if one of my guests can tempt him, so much the better!”

“Surely you cannot contemplate the prospect of anything happening between either of the Misses Heywood and Sir Melbourne – he must be twice their age or more,” protested Mary. “And I must say I heard some tales about him in London that rather alarmed me – they seemed to indicate he is not at all a suitable candidate for marriage.”

“Marriage? Who said anything about marriage?” replied Lady Denham testily. “A harmless little flirtation never did anyone any harm. They are both comely young women, and he is a rich, handsome gentleman! If they were to find each other’s company agreeable, who’s to blame them?”

Mary could not hide her disapproval. “You cannot call it a harmless flirtation if it is between a seasoned man of the world and a young lady recently out of the schoolroom! Do you know of anything to contradict the reports I have heard, Lady Denham?”

Lady Denham huffed and rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake! I did not think you one to set such store by idle rumours, Mrs Parker! As far as I know, he is a rich, good-looking gentleman – what more is there to know? If anything _were_ to come from it their parents would have much cause to rejoice! And they would have good reason to be grateful to me for facilitating such a match!”

Tom intervened hastily. “My love, please consider! Sir Melbourne has been instrumental in assisting with the rebuild of the town – his generous contributions and investments could not have come at a more perfect time. We must all do whatever is within our power to make his residence here as agreeable as possible, better than any other resort he has visited. Lady Denham is quite right; we need to show him that Sanditon has attractions to rival the best of them!”

Mary pressed her lips together tightly and said no more. Her husband and Lady Denham were of one mind on this matter: their mutual desire to see Sanditon succeed led them to regard the wealthy, spendthrift Sir Melbourne as a vital figure, worthy of any inducements they could think of to make him stay. As to what inducements they were thinking of, Mary was quite sure each was thinking of completely different things to the other.


	12. Chapter 12

As the days went by, the two sisters fell into an easy routine in their temporary new home; most mornings they would go for a stroll along the beach if the weather allowed it, looking for shells or interesting pieces of driftwood, while in the afternoons they would venture into town or keep Lady Denham company, and they invariably accompanied her when she went on outings herself, though these were infrequent enough. Charlotte introduced Alison to the delights, or tribulations, of sea bathing – depending on one’s perspective – and there were plenty of social events to keep them busy.

Alison overcame her reticence enough to ask if she might practise on the magnificent pianoforte, and was granted leave to do so on the occasions when her ladyship was in a mellow enough mood to permit of it. She also found greater leisure here to pursue her love of sketching than at their busy home in Willingden, as well as new landscapes to inspire her.

On the days they walked into town, they would invariably see Mr Stringer, and he would invariably make the time to stop his work and talk with them or show them the progress of the building work before they carried on. He was always friendly and polite to Alison, but she could not help noticing the particular attentions he paid to her sister; indeed, she felt they were so marked as to be obvious to everyone – everyone except Charlotte herself, that is, who seemed completely oblivious to any partiality on his side.

\---

As for Charlotte, she slowly began to relax, and felt that she might be able to enjoy her stay after all, given enough time. Coming back had not been as painful as she had feared. She found, however, that she could not summon up the same enthusiasm for the season’s events that she had felt the previous year. She could not tell if it was because it was no longer new to her, or because of the cloud that still hung over her everywhere she went.

The first ball of the season came and went; Charlotte stood up for two dances with Mr Stringer, as did Alison, and both sisters had a partner for nearly every dance. No stranger gave Charlotte a tongue lashing for daring to express her opinion; nothing occurred to ruin her evening. Yet she could not help but find it a little insipid. Her greatest pleasure was to see how much enjoyment Alison took in the evening’s merriment; she thought she had never seen her sister smile so frequently at a dance as she did that night.

The next morning both of them went down to the beach, as was their usual practice. Charlotte exulted in the opportunity to leave the manor house behind and enjoy the beauty of nature around her. There were not a great number of people around; many of the town’s gentry were staying abed longer today following the festivities of the night before. Charlotte was glad to feel a sense of solitude after the press of people in the ballroom the previous evening.

It was a brilliant day; she stood on the shore and gazed out at the limitless ocean, a multitude of tiny diamonds dancing on the surface of the water. She tasted the familiar tang of the salt air, feeling the bite of the wind and the heat of the sun on her face. It was not just the people of Sanditon that she loved; this little seaside town had captured her heart with its wild beauty, its vast expanses of sky and sand and sea. She felt in some way that when she returned to Willingden at the end of the season, she would be leaving her home rather than returning to it.

Charlotte was so absorbed in the dazzling view that she had not noticed Alison making her way back to her side from where she had been drawing in the sand with a stick. She was now jolted out of her abstracted contemplation of the scene before her by Alison saying in an urgent undertone: “Charlotte – who is that man there, staring at you?”

Charlotte felt the pit of her stomach drop as her eyes turned to where a tall, imposing figure stood stock still a little distance up the shore, clothed all in black, his eyes burning into her. The expression in them sent a thrill through her whole body. For several moments all she could do was gape in disbelief, elation and dismay warring within her, before she found her tongue.

“Mr Parker!” she exclaimed in astonishment.

**END OF EPISODE ONE**


	13. Episode Two

**EPISODE TWO: The Dinner Party**

“Charlotte!”

She had not thought to ever hear her name uttered from his mouth again. He sounded as amazed as she felt.

“Mr Parker – we did not look to see you back for several months, at least!” She could not stop staring at him – he was really there, in the flesh.

“Yes, that was the plan, but I – my ward and I made arrangements which saw me cut my travel short and come back early.” His eyes seemed to bore into her. “I did not think to see _you_ back here?”

“Yes, no, that is –“ She collected herself. “My sister and I are back at Lady Denham’s invitation, staying with her just until the end of the season.”

The mention of her sister suddenly recalled Alison’s presence to her, and Charlotte mechanically introduced her sister, who was standing slightly behind her. Sidney gave Alison the briefest of glances and a perfunctory smile before returning his gaze to her face again. As for Charlotte, her eyes seemed riveted to his face. She could hardly believe he was here – hadn’t his presence been the thing she was expressly seeking to avoid? Yet now that he was back, against all odds, she could not tell how she felt about it. All she knew was that this was the first time she had felt so alive since she had returned to Sanditon.

Alison promptly excused herself, saying something about gathering up their belongings. Charlotte barely heard her. Almost unconsciously, she and Sidney turned and began to walk side by side down the shore. Neither spoke immediately, as if each was still marvelling at the other’s presence, hardly daring to believe it possible. Then they both began to speak at the same time, and immediately broke off, before Charlotte motioned to him to continue.

“So you are not staying with Tom and Mary?” he asked, and she thought she detected a note of disappointment in his voice.

“No – is that where you will be staying?” she asked.

“I hope to, if they can accommodate me,” he replied, with a fleeting smile.

She was surprised. “You have not seen them yet?”

“I was informed when I arrived just now that the family was all out for a walk – I thought I might run into them here on the beach.”

“So you have only just arrived … How long have you been back in England?” she asked.

“Not long – I came directly to Sanditon upon my return,” he replied.

She turned to look at him. “You did not go to London first?”

He hesitated. “No. I will be travelling there soon. In a few days, perhaps.”

There was silence between them for a few moments as they walked on, Charlotte thinking of the implications of his travel to London.

He glanced at her and asked softly, “And how have you been, Miss Heywood?”

She decided to interpret his question as pertaining to her health, and since she had managed to avoid any sickness during the winter other than one or two colds, she replied with a touch of defiance, “Well enough, thank you. And how was your time away?”

He smiled and swung his cane at the sand. “Pleasanter than I was expecting,” he responded. “Georgiana and I managed to reach … an understanding, I suppose you could say, during our time abroad. I’m not sure if you would quite call us friends, but I believe she would no longer consider me an enemy, at least.”

“Well, that is definitely an improvement,” she said, looking at him with a mischievous smile that drew an answering smile from him. “What prompted you to take Georgiana travelling in the first place?” she asked.

He paused, as if working out where to begin. “An old friend stopped by to see me soon after you left Sanditon. Mrs Tattersail.”

“Yes, Georgiana mentioned her in a letter to me,” Charlotte said.

He nodded. “The timing of her visit was quite fortuitous. I shared with her my difficulties with Georgiana, telling her of Georgiana’s various … exploits. I was obliged to own that I had done a poor job as guardian, and she was inclined to agree with me.” He grimaced.

“She sounds a very sensible sort of woman,” Charlotte said with a twinkle in her eye.

He chuckled softly and said, with a glance at her, “She is a very wise lady. You would like her, I think.”

He fixed his eyes back on the beach in front of him and continued, “She represented to me the folly of imprisoning Georgiana, as it were, here in Sanditon. Such a life of constraint and boredom would serve only to heighten any feelings of ill usage she might harbour, and encourage her to devise more mischief. Mrs Tattersail pointed out that a high-spirited young woman needs activity and variety, particularly one who has recently suffered a serious disappointment. It was her idea for us to join her in her travels. It seemed a good idea to me – a chance for Georgiana to prove herself, as well as something to get her out of her doldrums.” He paused. “I had my own reasons for travelling too, of course,” he said with an unreadable expression, as he gazed ahead at the horizon.

Charlotte did not ask him to elaborate – she could guess what those reasons may have been. “Is Georgiana returned home as well, then?” she asked, hopefully.

He shook his head. “She is still undertaking the last part of her Grand Tour, accompanied by Mrs Tattersail. We agreed she could finish the tour without my presence. I can show her that I trust her, and she can show me that she is to be trusted. I would not have felt comfortable entrusting such a task to Mrs Griffiths, as I’m sure you can imagine, but Mrs Tattersail … she has proven herself more than a match for Georgiana.”

Charlotte frowned uneasily. “I hope that Georgiana and Mrs Tattersail get along well enough? That Mrs Tattersail treats her with kindness?”

“Oh – you need have no qualms on that score. It would seem the feminine bond supersedes any bonds of old friendship,” he said drily. “If Mrs Tattersail ever took my side against Georgiana it was the exception rather than the rule.”

Charlotte laughed. She was glad to hear it, and happy also to hear that Sidney and Georgiana’s relationship had improved so much over their time away. She asked a question that had occurred to her when she first learned of Georgiana’s plans. “I did not realise that young ladies might undertake a Grand Tour – I had thought it a gentleman’s preserve?”

“Typically, yes. But I believe Miss Lambe intends to set the trends, rather than follow them,” Sidney said with a wry smile.

“I can imagine that,” Charlotte said, smiling in return.

They walked a little distance in silence, but Charlotte already felt more comfortable in his presence than she would have believed possible a day ago. How easy it was to fall back into old ways; to feel suddenly as if no time had passed when in fact they had spent months apart.

She was loath to bring up his fiancée, breaking the fragile familiarity they were enjoying as they strolled along together, but her curiosity got the better of her. “I was surprised Mrs Campion consented to you travelling with Georgiana during the period of your engagement,” she enquired, looking up at him.

He grimaced. “She was not particularly pleased at the prospect. I advised her, however, that I was determined to take Miss Lambe travelling, either before our wedding or after it. I conveyed to her Mrs Tattersail’s warning that Georgiana would only get up to more mischief if constrained to stay in Sanditon for much longer, a warning that was subsequently borne out by a couple of further … incidents. Mrs Campion professed that she had no inclination to form one of the party, so permitted me to undertake the journey beforehand.”

“Mrs Campion had no wish to accompany you?” asked Charlotte, a little incredulously. She could think of nothing she would have liked better than to form one of such a party, exploring the world.

He paused. “I’m afraid Georgiana made no attempt to disguise her hostility towards Mrs Campion. I imagine that did not incline her to look favourably on making one of the travelling party.”

Charlotte hid a smile. She could not deny that a small part of her rejoiced to hear that, even though she knew it was an ignoble thing to feel. She thought that some, at least, of Georgiana’s animosity toward Mrs Campion must stem from her loyalty to Charlotte.

“Besides,” continued Sidney grimly, “this delay offered her the opportunity to complete our wedding preparations at leisure, making them as elaborate as she pleases. I believe she hopes it may be the event of the season.”

Charlotte had no desire to speak of the impending wedding, so asked him instead what tales he had to tell from his travels. Sidney proceeded to recount some of his experiences to her, apparently just as happy as she was to pursue a different line of conversation. And so they both walked on, wholly absorbed in each other, forgetful of all the world around them – at least for this brief period of time.

And as they continued down the beach, Alison followed the pair at a little distance, out of earshot, observing them carefully. She could understand now, with ample time to scrutinise him, how Charlotte could have fallen in love with Sidney Parker. He looked exactly like the type of man who could win a woman’s heart without even trying – and who could break it just as easily.


	14. Chapter 14

Suddenly, an excited, high-pitched cry cut through the air – “UNCLE SIDNEY!” – as a little shape barrelled toward them across the sand. Two more small blurs followed closely behind the first one, which had flung itself at Sidney and now resolved itself into the shape of a little figure clinging to his legs. Sidney laughed and threw his nephew into the air, while his two nieces clamoured for his attention. Charlotte stood back as he reacquainted himself with his young relatives; clearly they had felt the passage of time keenly since they last saw their favourite uncle.

As for Alison, observing the affection between Sidney and the children from where she stood a little further back, she was obliged to revise her impression of him – perhaps he was not such a hard man as she had first thought.

Tom and Mary were approaching now, following behind their children at a more dignified pace. “The prodigal brother!” cried Tom. “Sidney – we had no word of your coming! What a marvellous surprise!”

“Did all of my letters go astray?” Sidney asked with a straight face.

“Sidney, you know you never sent any,” Mary admonished him, but the severity of her tone was belied by the warmth of the hug she gave him. Sidney greeted her affectionately, then embraced his brother.

Charlotte hung back still, seeing the closeness between them, and her heart ached for it. She had come so near to being part of their family; now she must look on as an outsider.

The Parkers turned their steps toward home and Tom and Mary pressed the two sisters to accompany them, but Charlotte was steadfast in her polite refusal. She would not intrude on their family reunion; besides, however much she might long to be at Sidney’s side now that he had re-entered her life so unexpectedly, she knew it would be best to limit her time spent with him as much as possible. As easy as it had been to forget about his fiancée during their walk just now, ignoring her existence did not make her any less real, and the fact remained that he was engaged to marry another woman.

The two sisters set out for Lady Denham’s manor instead. Charlotte could not resist glancing over her shoulder as Sidney walked away, holding Jenny’s hand, only to encounter his eyes glancing back at her with the same intensity as when she had first seen him that morning. She jerked her head back round and spent the entire walk back to Lady Denham’s in a state of distraction, barely attending to a word Alison said, unable to decipher if the tight, clenched feeling inside her was from excitement or dread.

**\---**

Lady Denham, when informed of Sidney’s return to town, was well pleased.

“Excellent!” she pronounced. “He will complete the numbers for my dinner party. That’s something for you to look forward to,” she said, looking at Alison significantly, who looked back in confusion. “Yes, you shall have your chance very soon. You don’t want to blow it,” her ladyship continued.

“My chance? What do you mean, ma’am?” responded Alison in complete bewilderment.

“Why, your chance at matrimony, of course! You have heard who the guest of honour is to be: Sir Melbourne Harris – a very fine gentleman and the wealthiest visitor currently in Sanditon. And he is quite unattached! What do you say to that?”

It appeared that Alison had nothing to say. Indeed, rather than looking excited by the possibility of snaring herself a rich husband, Alison looked decidedly ill at ease and sent Charlotte a look of entreaty.

“When will Lord and Lady Babington be arriving?” Charlotte asked helpfully. “I do long to see Esther again and see how she’s doing.”

Lady Denham was instantly diverted by this agreeable subject. They were expected very soon; they were doing very well, by all accounts; she had always known how it would be. Since this subject, however, recalled to her ladyship’s mind a very successful piece of matchmaking on her part that had led to an impecunious young woman securing a wealthy lord, Alison was not entirely pleased with the new topic of discussion.

“I wish I had never said that I was looking for a wealthy husband!” Alison exclaimed bitterly after Lady Denham had left the room. “It seems she will never forget about it! And yet nothing could be further from the truth. I have the strongest dread she will say something about it at the dinner party, in front of everyone, and I shall not know where to look!”

Charlotte, who knew just how forthright Lady Denham could be, privately shared her sister’s apprehension, but said she was sure nothing of the sort would happen.


	15. Chapter 15

The day before the dinner party was set to take place, Charlotte found herself making the walk into town to deliver messages to the butcher, pastry-maker and baker, having volunteered to go in place of a particularly harried-looking servant, while Alison stayed behind to help the servants set up appropriate decorations for the Russian theme. As she made her way through the market, she chanced upon Esther strolling leisurely through the stalls _._

“Charlotte!” Esther greeted her with one of her rare genuine smiles.

“Esther!” Charlotte embraced her gladly. “Or should I say… Lady Babington?” she asked with an arch look.

“Esther will do,” replied her friend carelessly, “although I must own that the title Lady Babington is growing on me.”

“You are looking so well!” exclaimed Charlotte. “Married life must suit you.”

“Must it?” Esther arched one delicate eyebrow.

“Indeed – you are simply glowing! Please do not try to convince me that you find it miserable. I will not believe it.”

“Oh, it’s tolerable, I suppose. My lord positively dotes on me. It’s quite sickening,” she said in her usual languid air, but she could not repress the little smile that curved the edges of her mouth. “Ah, there he is now,” she said, her smile widening despite herself.

Charlotte turned as Lord Babington walked up, his eyes fixed on his wife.

“My lord,” Esther greeted him, holding out her hand.

“My love,” he responded, kissing her hand, his eyes locked on hers.

The glow in her eyes was unmistakeable as she gazed back at him. Then the two of them turned to Charlotte as if belatedly recalling her presence.

“Miss Heywood!” Lord Babington seemed even more cheerful than she remembered, as if there were a new joy running through him he could barely contain.

“Lord Babington – I was just commenting on how happy your wife seems,” Charlotte replied, smiling at them both.

Lord Babington turned back to Esther with a concerned expression. “My dear, you are slipping – it will not do to have people suspect that you actually _enjoy_ being married to me.”

“She did her best to conceal it,” Charlotte said with an apologetic look at Esther.

Esther rolled her eyes. “You are both utterly ridiculous. I do not know why I put up with you.”

“Well, you are bound to one of us for life,” said Lord Babington with a gleam in his eye, “so you don’t really have much choice, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, and I have my aunt to thank for that,” Esther said. “Has she sent you down here on some errand for the dinner party tomorrow?” she asked Charlotte, who nodded. “We are here to install Mr Crowe in his lodgings, but we seem to have lost him,” Esther continued, apparently unperturbed by this turn of events.

“Tom has been most earnest in his entreaties to us to visit, and bring Crowe along,” Lord Babington said to Charlotte, with a look of humour.

“I still cannot fathom why he would consider Mr Crowe an asset rather than a liability,” said Esther, with a pained expression.

“Ah – there he is!” Lord Babington exclaimed as Mr Crowe meandered up to them.

“Miss Heywood!” Mr Crowe sounded surprised. “What brings you back here?”

“Why, I’m sure she’s delighted to see you too,” Esther said pointedly.

“Oh yes – charmed, I’m sure, and all that,” Mr Crowe muttered.

“Lady Denham kindly invited my sister and me to stay with her for the season,” Charlotte responded.

Mr Crowe grunted. “Rather you than me,” he said, earning him an icy glare from Esther. “So we shall see you at the dinner party tomorrow, then,” he continued, oblivious to Esther’s silent hostility _._

“Yes!” replied Charlotte. “And will you be staying for the concert too?”

Lord Babington replied. “Of course! Sanditon’s inaugural concert? We wouldn’t miss it – would we, Crowe?” He nudged his friend.

“Apparently not,” Mr Crowe said, without enthusiasm.

“I’m sure it will be well worth staying for!” Charlotte said.

Aware that she did not have too much time to loiter, however, Charlotte soon took her leave of them to deliver her messages. She walked on briskly, well satisfied with how happy her friends seemed in their marriage; and she was almost entirely successful in her efforts to silence the little voice that wondered, forlornly, why that same happiness could not be hers too.


	16. Chapter 16

“How do I look?” Alison struck an approximation of a regal pose, her jewels reflecting the candlelight in a shimmering display of wealth.

They were both dressed more extravagantly than they had ever been before. Charlotte felt as if it were somehow the culmination of all those hours spent dressing up when they were girls, pretending to be princesses or queens or famous court ladies, creating fantastic headgear and gowns from whatever cloth scraps they could find lying around the house.

Lady Denham had not only permitted them to ransack her wardrobes – nay, she had positively insisted that they try on some of her fabulous old dresses from when she was a much younger woman, and to wear whatever they liked for the dinner party. Although decidedly old-fashioned now, they had each found a dress they secretly thought became them well, in spite of all the fussy details covering them; both gowns boasted low waists, voluminous skirts over hoop petticoats and seemingly great quantities of bustles and ruffles. Charlotte’s sky blue dress featured a lower neckline, while Alison’s gown, an emerald green colour, was wider in the skirt; both made them feel like royalty. Their transformation into members of the Russian aristocracy was completed by the heavy jewellery adorning their throats and arms, also borrowed from their gracious hostess, and the tiara each wore atop her elaborately dressed hair.

“Magnificent! You look as beautiful as the tsarina herself!” Charlotte proclaimed from where she sat on Alison’s bed, drawing on her gloves.

“Is the tsarina very beautiful?” Alison asked with a mischievous smile.

“I have no clue!” replied Charlotte with a laugh. “But you do look splendid, Alison!” She stood up carefully to stand beside Alison, looking at her sister’s reflection in the mirror as she asked impishly, “Why, is there a particular gentleman present you are hoping to impress?”

Alison groaned. “Don’t remind me! I mean to stay as far away from this Sir Melbourne as I can! But speaking of gentlemen …” She fixed Charlotte with a meaningful look. “How are _you_ feeling, Charlotte? In view of the rather unexpected addition to the dinner party tonight?”

In truth, Charlotte was feeling jittery, restless, on edge; she was anxious to get downstairs and almost as anxious to have the evening over and done with. She waved a hand dismissively. “Our reunion was much less painful than I had feared, Alison. And now that the first meeting is out of the way, I’m sure I will be able to bear our subsequent encounters much more easily.”

Alison looked at her sceptically, but said only, “I am happy to hear it.”

“Let us only hope the first meeting with Sir Melbourne will be similarly painless,” Charlotte continued, with a twinkle in her eye. “Who knows?” She turned her head to check her hair one last time before preparing to leave the room. “He may turn out to be the handsomest and most agreeable man you have ever met. You may yet find yourself in possession of his fortune!”

Alison gritted her teeth. “Very amusing, Charlotte. Well, I suppose we must meet him sooner or later. Let us get it over with, then.”

So saying, she followed Charlotte out of the room and the two sisters descended the stairs together.

Lord and Lady Babington were already down; his lordship wore a collarless shirt, patterned around the wrists and hem, with a sash around his waist from which a sabre hung. Esther wore one of her regular gowns, perhaps a little more elaborate than usual, but upon Alison innocently enquiring whether she still needed to don her costume, replied airily that the Russian nobility simply followed the French fashions a decade later, so the Russians’ apparel was not all that dissimilar from their own.

Lady Denham entered the room just then, and her appearance made Charlotte feel better about being so ostentatiously attired. She had never seen her ladyship look so grand before, from her impossibly intricate hairstyle, to the delicate gold embroidery overlaying her midnight blue gown, to the luxurious fur stole wrapped around her shoulders.

Alison evidently felt the same way, exclaiming, “Oh, Lady Denham – you look spectacular!”

Lady Denham nodded with satisfaction. “That’s what you get from marrying well, my dear – and from drinking two glasses of asses’ milk every day.” She surveyed the rest of them critically, and they must have passed muster, for she nodded again and said, “Well, let’s get to it!”


	17. Chapter 17

Tom and Mary were the first guests to arrive, closely followed by Arthur and Diana. Tom had fully committed to the theme, sporting bright red baggy trousers, an open coat and a fur hat in the style of a Cossack, while Mary was dressed as his peasant wife, somehow contriving to make even her simple dress look elegant. The same could not be said for Diana, who, with the scarf wrapped around her head, her full red skirt and embroidered white blouse, looked almost as if she could indeed be the peasant she imitated. Arthur had managed to obtain a long, patterned kaftan trimmed with fur, with a sash tied around his waist, a sabre hanging down from it and a round cloth hat perched precariously atop his head, whose tassel fell over his eyes in a most inconvenient manner whenever he moved his head.

“Lady Denham – you have surpassed yourself,” exclaimed Tom in wonderment, looking around at the decorations that had transformed the familiar space into another place entirely. Two rows of potted fir trees created a makeshift aisle leading to the dining room, patterned rugs carpeted the floor and rich red and deep blue hangings covered the normal dark tones of the wall. A string quartet played a lively piece in the corner, dressed in blue and red livery. “I could believe we had all been transported to the Russian Empire!”

“I know,” replied Lady Denham grimly. “He’d better appreciate it!”

As if summoned by her remark, the guest in question made his entry just then, and Charlotte and Alison were finally given their chance to meet the famed newcomer to Sanditon.

Sir Melbourne advanced unhurriedly toward Lady Denham as at least two pairs of eyes examined him critically. They were obliged to own that he was indeed a very handsome man, although to them he seemed quite old – he must have been somewhere in his forties. He was tall and well built, with broad shoulders set off to admiration by the military uniform he was wearing, complete with cape. As he greeted Lady Denham, Charlotte was granted a good view of the most magnificent pair of sideburns she had ever seen, stretching almost to his mouth. As for his hair, his jet black locks were swept into such a state of artful disarray that a casual observer might infer that Sir Melbourne did not concern himself overmuch with their appearance, trusting instead to his natural endowments _._ If that same observer had looked more closely, however, they would soon have discovered their mistake, perceiving that his locks were too black, and had too lustrous a sheen, to be natural. No, Sir Melbourne took great pride in his appearance and was careful to cultivate it – justifiably so, one might say, based on how it had served him in the past. His face, as it turned toward them now, bore the confident expression of one who was used to being generally received with favour and being smiled upon by the fairer sex.

“My word,” he said, lifting his quizzing glass and slowly running his eyes up and down the length of Charlotte’s body. “What delightful guests you have here, Lady Denham! I beg you would introduce these two captivating creatures.”

“Nothing would please them more, I’m sure!” Lady Denham said with alacrity. “Allow me to present Miss Heywood and her sister, Miss Alison Heywood.”

Charlotte curtsied and held out her hand dutifully.

“Enchanté,” he murmured, his hand lingering around hers for a few moments longer than was customary, before treating Alison’s hand in like manner. “What youthful beauties!” he exclaimed.

“Indeed – and they are both quite unattached!” Lady Denham said, regarding them all with a satisfied air.

He shook his head, frowning. “Criminal! What a waste!”

“But one of them, at least, is perfectly ready to form an attachment – isn’t that right, Miss Alison?”

Lady Denham raised her brows at Alison, whose stony expression did not lend her statement much support. Oblivious to Alison’s discomfiture, Lady Denham headed off, well pleased with the great service she had done them.

“You are but recently arrived in Sanditon? I would have noticed you otherwise, you may be sure,” he said to them with a roguish smile.

“We have not been here long – only a few weeks,” Charlotte replied politely.

“Ah. Here for the season, of course? There’s nothing better than a seaside resort for enjoying oneself to the full – to indulge the body as much as one might desire.”

“We are enjoying our time here very much. There is so much to see and do,” she said carefully.

“Indeed there is,” he said, with a gleam in his eye. “Plenty of things to gratify all the senses. I trust we will be seeing more of each other throughout the coming weeks – I would be delighted to make your stay here more pleasurable, in any way I can.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgement, but was saved from having to respond by Tom coming up to engage Sir Melbourne in conversation, at the same time as Lady Worcester entered the room.


	18. Chapter 18

“Susan!” exclaimed Charlotte with relief, as Susan walked straight to greet her, hands held out to clasp hers warmly. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

Susan’s embroidered dress, with the delicate, patterned shawl she wore wrapped around her shoulders, proclaimed her as a peasant, although the quality of the cloth and the poise of the one who wore it indicated a peasant woman blessed with an uncommon degree of wealth and elegance.

“What – Senora Fiore gives her first concert in a decade tomorrow evening? I wouldn’t miss it!” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “And how are you, Charlotte?” she asked, scrutinising her friend carefully.

“Well enough, thank you – and how have you been?” Charlotte replied, anxious to deflect the focus back to her friend.

Susan narrowed her eyes. “I see – do we require a greater degree of privacy for you to feel able to answer that question properly? Very well – I shall tell you all about myself now, and when I take you out for a drive tomorrow morning you shall return the favour. What say you?”

Charlotte agreed thankfully, and listened with unfeigned interest as Susan began a colourful account of her recent experiences in London. Susan had not been talking for long, however, when Charlotte felt more than saw Sidney’s entrance. She tried to continue listening attentively, but couldn’t prevent herself glancing at him, snapping her eyes back when she encountered his bright eyes fixed on her.

All at once she felt as self-conscious as a schoolgirl. Her dress suddenly felt too tight, the room too close and she fought the urge to fidget with her bracelets. She frowned, vexed with herself. It seemed ridiculous that the other day they could have walked side by side for so long, talking easily as if it were the most natural thing in all the world, but today the merest touch of his eyes made her feel uncomfortably warm. What was wrong with her? Had she forgotten he was a taken man? Hardly – that fact was never far from her mind.

Susan seemed to perceive that she no longer enjoyed Charlotte’s undivided attention and cast a discreet glance sideways.

“Ah,” she said knowingly. “I see Mr Parker has arrived.”

No further comment was possible, as Diana, having just finished conversing closely with Dr Fuchs, chose that moment to join them, eager to hear the latest on-dits from London.

Across the room, Lord Babington had also caught sight of the latest arrival, entering beside Mr Crowe, and hailed him now, walking over with his hands outstretched. “Why, look at what the cat dragged in – Sidney!”

“Babington!” Sidney grinned back at him and the two men embraced.

“So you made it back in one piece! We are overjoyed to see your smiling face back here!” exclaimed Lord Babington. He stepped back and surveyed Sidney’s collarless shirt, unbuttoned jacket, cape, and round cloth hat with tassel, along with his sabre hanging in a semi-ornate scabbard. “Now, do enlighten me – is this your costume for the dinner party or simply your new style of dress?”

Sidney chuckled. “Come, Babington – I’m sure you can tell what I’m meant to be.”

“Let me see – a Cossack?”

Sidney inclined his head in affirmation.

Lord Babington turned to Mr Crowe with a bemused expression on his face, taking in Mr Crowe’s oversized white turban shaped like an onion, complete with a glass diadem at the front with a peacock feather curling up from it. “And what on earth are you dressed up as?”

Mr Crowe gazed back, unmoved. “An eastern despot – what does it look like?”

Lord Babington grinned. “It _looks_ to me like you’ve confused the Russian Empire with the Ottoman one.”

Mr Crowe looked faintly put out, before shrugging and saying, “Well, what’s the difference anyway? And who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a peasant!” Lord Babington exclaimed, his arms outstretched as if the answer should be self-evident.

“I see,” responded Mr Crowe sardonically. “The costume becomes you, Babington. Let us hope you play at being a peasant better than you play at being a lord.”

Heedless of his friends’ exchange, Sidney was roused from his protracted contemplation of Miss Heywood’s person by a light jab in his back. “En garde!” came Arthur’s cheerful voice from behind him, and he turned to find the tip of Arthur’s sabre lightly pressing into him, with Arthur standing in a fighting stance, eyes bright, face flushed, his other arm outstretched with a flourish.

“I can’t, Arthur,” he muttered.

“Come now,” Arthur responded jovially. “Let’s see what fight you have in you!”

“Plenty, little brother, but I cannot fight you now,” Sidney said between gritted teeth.

“Oh, come on, it’s only a bit of fun!”

“Arthur, I told you, I can’t. My sabre is stuck in its scabbard. It will not come out,” Sidney said with a grimace, showing his brother the deficient article.

“Oh.” Deflated, Arthur sheathed his sabre and joined the circle of men, righting his crooked hat and impatiently brushing the tassel out of his eyes. “I say, these outfits are devilish hot, don’t you think?” he said by way of greeting, pulling at his collar uncomfortably.

“That’s what comes of dressing for a Russian winter in an English summer,” remarked Lord Babington with a smirk.

“What do they wear in a Russian summer?” asked Arthur, as if the notion had never occurred to him before.

“I don’t believe they have summer over there,” Mr Crowe remarked carelessly. Arthur stared at him doubtfully and opened his mouth to respond, but as dinner was announced at that moment, any question about Russian summers vanished into insignificance beside this agreeable news.


	19. Chapter 19

The guests made their way into the dining room to find it decorated with the same rugs and wall coverings as the drawing room, with the addition of one particular item: nearly all eyes were immediately drawn to a magnificent bearskin displayed grandly in the centre of the wall. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth and numerous standing braziers filled the room with a heavy warmth.

Arthur, however, gazed in dismay at the table, which, other than the usual crockery and cups and a large samovar that dominated the middle, was bereft of the array of dishes that usually covered it for occasions such as this. As other eyes fell upon the bare table, expressions of admiration turned into looks of confusion or concern.

“Service a la russe!” announced Lady Denham, well pleased with the reactions from her guests. “It means each course will be brought out in turn, individually plated!” Arthur did not look much cheered by this announcement.

They all moved to take their seats. Charlotte was not quite sure how it happened – certainly _she_ did not contrive to bring it about – but somehow she found herself seated between Sir Melbourne on her left and Sidney Parker on her right. Under normal circumstances, she would have held fast to her intention to reduce the amount of interaction between herself and Sidney Parker; but when the alternative was Sir Melbourne, whose attentions she had no desire to encourage, there was little choice left to her but to converse with the gentleman on her right _._ So she told herself.

In any event, it was he who spoke first. “So, Miss Heywood, any observations on the assembled company?” asked Sidney with a wry smile.

She simply looked at him for a moment. “Well, since you ask,” she replied quietly, a smile lurking on her lips, “there is one gentleman here in particular whom I find to be most uncivil and thoroughly disagreeable.”

“Miss Heywood, you should not talk so about Sir Melbourne,” he said in a mildly reproving tone, low enough that only she could hear him.

“I was not talking about him!” she hissed.

“Very well, if you say so.” He waited as the servants came out bearing the first course. In accordance with the theme, the servants were all dressed in red and blue, with round fur hats; Charlotte felt sorry to see how flushed they looked as they set a bowl of borscht in front of each guest with some bread on the side. Arthur was clearly not the only one feeling uncomfortable in his warm Russian garb.

“Tell me, Miss Heywood,” Sidney continued as the servants left, “in the very act of describing this mystery man as uncivil – whoever he may be – are you not in danger of falling into the trap of incivility yourself?” He looked at her, brows raised, a faint smile on his lips.

“I would only be in danger of being charged with incivility if I were addressing the gentleman in question directly,” she said meaningfully.

“Well then – in that case you are absolved of any such charge,” he replied smoothly, with a pleasant smile.

She was prevented from answering by Lady Denham’s voice, addressing Sir Melbourne with her words while her volume addressed the whole room.

“So, Sir Melbourne, how was your time in the Russian Empire? You must have many exciting tales to tell?” Lady Denham was clearly determined to exert herself to please.

“Why, there’s not much to say,” Sir Melbourne replied easily.

“Come now, sir, I’m sure the young ladies here will wish to hear of your exploits – I'm sure Miss Alison would, for one,” Lady Denham said, eyeing Alison at the far end of the table, who suddenly appeared to find her bowl of soup of far greater interest than anything Sir Melbourne might say. “I understand you were knighted for services rendered during the war of the ‘Third Coalition’, or whatever it is they’re calling it these days,” Lady Denham continued.

“Yes, that's right,” Sir Melbourne said. “Very well, if you insist.” He took a large sip of wine and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “I have one tale you may find diverting enough. Let’s see now … The first time I went to St Petersburg, I took along an interpreter. The chap knew what, five languages or so fluently, and enough to get by in another five or so. We were at the wharf unloading the cargo, and I’d sent the interpreter off with the man from the duty house to sort things out, when we see the mayor riding up on a white charger, feather in his hat and a sword on his belt. The man was at least six and a half feet tall. He leaps off his horse, throwing the reins to an attendant that had been running alongside him on foot. I don’t quite know the customs there, so I just stand there like a fool. The mayor laughs and says ‘Bienvenu à Saint-Pétersbourg. Est-ce que vous parlez français? Voulez-vous vous joindre à moi pour prendre un verre?’ in such perfect French that I thought I’d accidentally landed at Marseilles!”

Once the polite chuckles had ended he continued. “Of course they all speak French – it’s a matter of class distinction to them – and of course I went with the man for a drink. He was the man in charge of customs, and I got to know Sergei and his family very well over the years.” His lips curved in a smile, and he gazed into the distance as if recalling a pleasant memory. “Yes, I got to know some of them very well indeed.”


	20. Chapter 20

As Sir Melbourne embarked on another account from his time in Russia at Lady Denham’s urging, Tom smiled genially at Alison beside him from his position at the foot of the table. “How are you finding it here at Lady Denham’s?” he asked kindly.

She smiled back. “We are enjoying it, thank you, sir.”

“And how has her ladyship been treating you?” he asked with a raised brow.

“She has been very accommodating, although …” she hesitated, then said shyly, “she did seem rather … out of sorts the evening we arrived.”

Tom leaned closer and muttered conspiratorially, “With her ladyship that’s the rule rather than the exception, I would say, my dear.” He straightened. “Did she mention the cause of her ill temper on that occasion?”

“She referred simply to business matters,” Alison replied with a frown.

Tom sighed. “Ah, yes. It’s been a difficult job renewing interest in Sanditon ever since that dreadful blaze last year.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Alison sympathetically. “It must have been simply awful.”

“Not to worry,” Tom responded jauntily _._ “The season is only just beginning, and we’ve had a good deal more visits from the haut ton than I would have anticipated – I ascribe it to the success of our regatta here last year. A famous event! Charlotte will have told you all about it. Not only that, but we’ve had some very promising expressions of interest in longer stays here from a number of people as the rebuilding has progressed – most notably, that gentleman there,” he said, indicating Sir Melbourne with a discreet nod.

Alison smiled tightly. “Yes, Lady Denham has mentioned him to us.”

“But then there’s that other matter that’s been giving Lady Denham some headaches,” Tom mused.

Alison looked at him enquiringly.

“With Sir Edward, Lady Denham’s nephew,” Tom explained, in a low voice. “It’s a tricky business. No one knows what’s become of him since last year’s midsummer ball – Lady Denham disowned him, you know, and then sent him packing to London after he caused a great commotion at the ball.”

“Yes, Charlotte told me about that,” replied Alison.

“It was a terrible business,” said Tom gravely. “Nobody’s heard a word from him since, and no more payments have been made on Denham Place, either, from what I’ve heard. It was already in a sad state of repair, but now –” he blew out a gusty breath – “now it’s all just going to the dogs. It’s a bad look for the town to have a fine manor house simply sitting there, falling into ruin. Ideally we would want to get it fixed up and rented out or sold to some rich lord with an interest in Sanditon, but Lady Denham has had some difficulty in her quest to acquire the property. Really a most confounded nuisance all round,” he frowned.

“What is the problem with acquiring it?” Alison asked.

“Lawyers,” said Tom with a shrug, as if that was all there was to it. Seeing Alison’s confused look, he continued, “Sir Edward’s creditors are wishing to foreclose, to recoup their losses.” He paused, then said grimly, “I’m afraid whenever there’s a large amount of money involved, there’s always a lawyer involved somewhere.”

“Do you think Lady Denham would like me to recommend a lawyer?” Arthur piped up from Alison’s other side, fixing Tom with one of his intense stares. “I know a very good one, who has helped me with some difficult business recently.”

Tom shook his head. “No need for that, Arthur – I’m sure her ladyship has things in hand,” he replied, with a patronising smile. “In fact, from the latest I’ve heard, I understand she’s close to getting it all sorted.”

Arthur addressed Alison. “My brother thinks all my recommendations are worthless.”

“Only because you keep recommending investment opportunities,” Tom replied with a grimace.

Arthur continued to address himself to Alison. "He thinks all my investments must be some sort of money drain, and that I would get a better return at the races,” he said with a laugh.

“Oh, I never said that,” Tom protested.

“To be fair to my esteemed elder brother, he’s usually right,” Arthur said with unabashed good humour. “This time, though, I think I’m on to a winner,” he said with a big wink at Alison.

“Not another West Indian bonds market flutter, I hope?” said Tom with a sigh.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” said Arthur, grimacing. “No, this time I have decided to spread my assets around!” He grinned at Alison. “You won’t have met my friend Miss Lambe, but I’m sure Charlotte will have told you all about her. Before she left for parts foreign, we had a most instructive conversation about investments. Sidney is teaching her to take an interest in her own finances, you see, and she warned me against putting all my eggs in one basket, so to speak. So I am heeding her advice, and attempting to diversify my portfolio!”

“What are your current investments, Mr Parker?” Alison asked with interest, charmed by Arthur’s boyish, confiding disposition.

“Well, I’ve been given some wonderful opportunities recently! So far I’ve been offered shares in several intriguing possibilities: there’s a scheme to dig a canal across the Central American isthmus, a mining venture in Western Africa and an expedition to discover the Northwest passage.”

“Does the Northwest passage actually exist?” Tom asked doubtfully.

“That’s why it’s so brilliant!” Arthur exclaimed excitedly. “Because nobody knows!”

Alison suppressed a laugh as she looked at Tom, who was shaking his head despairingly.

“I’ve also been approached by some fellows who claim to have built a device capable of harnessing the mesmeric vibrations in the ether – it’s meant to be able to cure all sorts of ailments.”

“That must be the one Diana brought to your attention,” Tom said with a sly wink at Alison.

“Yes, that’s right,” responded Arthur innocently. “Besides,” he continued, “I’m investing in the news industry as well. Much more likely to produce a good return,” he said with a smile, looking very pleased with himself.

“Hmmm,” Tom said, looking unconvinced.

Arthur was unfazed. “In fact, Miss Heywood, you are looking at the part owner of a London newspaper,” he announced grandly.

Alison hoped her expression was suitably admiring. Tom, however, made no such effort. “Are there not dozens of newspapers in London? Surely that’s a lot of competition?” he asked sceptically.

“There are fewer newspapers every year,” said Arthur, with a satisfied nod.

“Well then, that sounds like a dying industry,” Tom said dismissively.

“That’s what we needed the lawyer for, you see,” said Arthur, addressing Alison again, his tone suddenly very serious. “A libel case, but I think we’ll win.”

“It sounds quite stimulating!” said Alison, impressed in spite of herself.

“It is!” Arthur confirmed eagerly. “We’ve just hired a new editor, and I’m hoping to find some financing for a new printing press, since the old one is very old and slow.”

“Sounds like a bit of a gamble to me,” Tom said dubiously.

Arthur sighed and addressed Alison. “First, Tom told me to invest in something solid and dependable, like government-issued bonds.”

“Yes, but not from _other_ governments!” interjected Tom.

“And we saw how that turned out,” Arthur continued, ignoring Tom. “Then he tells me I’d be better off gambling with my inheritance, and what do I get?” Arthur shrugged and held his hands palm upward in the universal gesture of resignation. “It seems I cannot win!”


	21. Chapter 21

Down the other end of the table, Sir Melbourne had just concluded a thrilling tale about some Finnish smugglers he had encountered in the Baltic Sea and looked as if he were about to embark on another one, when Lady Worcester broke in as he took a drink and enquired politely whether he had ever had the opportunity to try a sauna during his time overseas.

He stilled and turned to look at her. “I can’t say that I did. Why do you ask, my lady?”

“You merely put me in mind of a visit Tsar Alexander paid to England a few years ago,” she replied smoothly. “While we were visiting Bath as part of the imperial entourage, he mentioned to me how fond he was of a thing he called a sauna, which had been imported from Finland, and which was now a favourite relaxation method of his. You spent so much time in the Russian Empire, and seem to have enjoyed such good connections there, I wondered if you had been so fortunate as to try one.”

Tom gazed intently at Lady Worcester at this, his attention arrested, his fork poised halfway to his mouth with a morsel of potato on it. Diana perked up too, her interest in the conversation piqued. “What is a sauna?” she asked.

“From what the Tsar said, it was a smallish room, with a little furnace,” Susan replied. “The person wishing to use it will undress, then enter the room and sit on a wooden bench while the room grows hotter and hotter. Once the heat is no longer bearable, it is the custom to run out and roll in the snow if it's winter, or jump into an icy bath or pool to cool off.”

“Heavens!” Diana shuddered. “How hideous!”

“It sounds invigorating!” enthused Arthur. “Come to think of it, a dip in an icy pool sounds perfect right about now!” he went on, removing his hat and mopping his brow with his handkerchief.

“I can think of far better things to do while undressed,” muttered Mr Crowe.

Lady Denham frowned suspiciously. “What is the purpose of such a contraption?” she demanded.

Lady Susan smiled. “It is purported to have great health benefits, and is supposed to be good for those suffering from various aches, but I would have to leave that to our esteemed doctor.” She turned to Dr Fuchs, sitting beside her. “Have you heard of the sauna?” she asked.

Dr Fuchs finished his mouthful, and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Yes, I have been in the sauna. It is a very intense experience. Not for the faint of the heart, nor for the weak of the constitution, but it can be very invigorating and most refreshing.”

“When were you able to do this?” Mary asked in surprise. “I thought it was from the Baltic Sea area?”

“As a younger man I was in the Bavarian army, and followed Bonaparte into Russia,” he replied, and the conversation at the table suddenly went quiet.

“I was an army doctor treating the wounded soldiers,” Dr Fuchs continued, oblivious to the attention trained on him. “After we took what was left of Moscow, we left the French to their hubris, and left. One of the estates they used as a field hospital had one of these sauna rooms on the grounds. As a physician, a part of my role was to try out new treatments before using them on the patients.”

“Were you at Borodino?” Sidney asked.

“Yes, and after this my company returned home. We had no interest in being, how do you say, the cannon fodder for the French.”

Dr Fuchs lifted his cup to his lips in the silence that followed his words, his eyes gazing abstractedly before him as if seeing into the distant past.

Tom was no longer paying attention to the doctor. His potato had grown quite cold now, the fork lying forgotten on his plate. He leaned forward, his eyes alight with the fervour familiar to all who knew him well. “Such a thing – this sauna – could be considered quite an attraction, wouldn’t you say, Lady Worcester?” His excitement was barely suppressed.

She looked back at him thoughtfully. “I think it could,” she replied.

“Why - it’s just the thing for Sanditon!” he said eagerly. “Can’t you just see it? People drawn here from all over the country for the chance to experience the healing wonders of the exotic –” and he spread his hands mysteriously – “sauna room!”

Lady Denham, however, was having none of it. “No more new-fangled inventions, I beg you, Mr Parker!” she snapped. “Or have you forgotten that the last time I indulged your fancy for a contraption using steam, with supposed health benefits, it did not end well!” She glared accusingly at him, before transferring her scowl to Dr Fuchs for good measure.

Esther spoke up. “You know, Aunt, that I have every reason to believe that supposed misfortune involving the shower-bath was no accident.”

Lady Denham grunted. “Given her later conduct, I would almost believe her capable of anything to further her interests,” she conceded. “Be that as it may, I do not like the sound of this sauna. At all!”

“I could do with some more relaxation,” Sir Melbourne said negligently. “I think it sounds a famous idea.” Tom beamed at him, while Lady Denham looked decidedly put out, and looked as if she were preparing to battle them all on it.

Charlotte decided that a new topic of conversation was needed to restore harmony around the table. Quickly she said into the temporary lull: “Lord Babington – you only arrived yesterday from your estate. Have you brought any news from that part of the country?”

“Well, it’s funny you should ask,” Lord Babington replied slowly, with a little smile. “We do happen to have some rather exciting news to share.” All eyes immediately fastened on his face. He gently laid his hand on Esther’s, smiling adoringly at her, as she fixed her eyes impassively on her plate. Still he waited, gazing round at the rest of the table, seeing the mounting anticipation in their faces. Then he grinned and said softly, “We are to have a child.”


	22. Chapter 22

There was a moment of stunned silence, before the table erupted in expressions of joy and felicitation, all of Sir Melbourne’s exploits in the Russian Empire and the bickering over saunas forgotten in light of these momentous tidings. Esther smiled delightedly now as the couple accepted their friends’ congratulations, unable to maintain the straight face she had worn for the announcement.

“An heir!” cried Lady Denham in triumph. “What splendid news!”

“A precious little child,” said Lord Babington softly, a glow in his eyes.

Mr Crowe smirked at his friend. “Congratulations, old boy – or should I say, commiserations?”

“And how are you keeping, child?” Lady Denham demanded of Esther.

“Very well, thank you, Aunt – I am finding it delightful.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “I cannot decide which I prefer – having a voracious appetite or feeling sick at the very sight of food. I can only dream of the pleasures that await me once the child is finally born. I am of a mind never to permit Lord Babington near me again.” She addressed Charlotte, sitting across from her, in incredulous tones. “How did your mother contrive to endure this twelve times?”

Charlotte smiled sympathetically. “I believe she had relatively easy pregnancies. No nausea or other unpleasant side effects. I understand it often gets easier after the first child, though?”

Lord Babington looked happy to hear this, turning to Esther eagerly with raised brows and a smile.

“Don’t even think about it, Lord Babington,” Esther said to him warningly, then looking across at Charlotte, she said drily, “He needs no encouragement, I assure you!”

“This calls for a toast!” proclaimed Sir Melbourne, summoning one of the servants with an imperious gesture. “I had meant to bring out my gift at the end of the meal, but what better tidings can there be than a brat on the way, eh?” He inclined his head toward Lord and Lady Babington with an affable smile.

“This is the best vodka you will ever try – the same stuff that is favoured by the Tsar himself,” he announced grandly as the servants brought out several bottles of clear liquid and proceeded to pour some for each of the guests. “The finest the Russian Empire has to offer – for the finest that Sanditon has to offer,” he said with a gesture around the table, his eyes lingering on Charlotte next to him.

He stood and raised his glass. “To Lord Babington, his wife and the little brat!” he pronounced with a broad smile. They all clinked their cups and took a drink. Diana spluttered in surprise, Arthur collapsed into a fit of coughing and even Mr Crowe widened his eyes at the strength of the liquid.

“Those Russians have got one thing right, at least!” said Mr Crowe in a respectful tone.

Lady Denham was now in the best of spirits again. She eyed Esther’s dress with its empire waist.

“I understand now why you declined to wear any of my old gowns. Nothing ruins a woman’s figure like bearing children,” she said, nodding sagely.

Esther rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the encouragement, Aunt.”

“I’m only stating the truth!” Lady Denham shrugged. “Besides, ‘tis of no moment when you’ve already secured a husband!” She smiled benevolently at Lord Babington.

“Nothing could diminish Lady Babington’s beauty in my eyes,” declared Lord Babington with conviction, “even if she were to bear twenty children!”

Esther rolled her eyes again and pronounced emphatically, “Well, there is no chance of that happening!”

“Can we please stop talking about children,” complained Mr Crowe. “It’s ruining my appetite.”

“You should try growing one,” said Esther drily. “It’s enough to put you off food altogether.”

Mr Crowe blanched. “No chance of me fathering a child anytime soon,” he said decidedly.

Esther snorted. “No, I should think not,” she said derisively.

Lord Babington cocked an eyebrow at his friend, who was busily polishing off the rest of his meal. “Your appetite looks quite unimpaired to me, my good fellow,” he said.

“Just as well, for we still have one course to go – isn’t that right, Aunt?” said Esther.

“Ooh – I do hope it’s something cold,” Arthur interposed, fanning himself with his napkin. Nor was he the only one feeling the heat anymore, based on the flushed cheeks and shiny foreheads around the table.

The servants soon brought out the final set of dishes: cake, biscuits, hot pudding – and some ices, in fulfilment of Arthur’s wish. His eyes brightened at the array of delicacies on offer and Lord Babington began to say to Mr Crowe, “If you are unable to stomach any more food, Crowe, just let me know –” when he was interrupted by a tray clattering to the floor on the other side of the table, as a servant suddenly collapsed in a dead faint.


	23. Chapter 23

Some time later, Sidney stood with his two friends to one side of the room as he and Mr Crowe prepared to take their leave. The atmosphere was calmer now than in the frantic aftermath of the servant’s collapse, when the whole room had been thrown into confusion.

The unfortunate servant had been saved from injury only by Sidney’s quick reflexes, catching her before she could hit the floor. For a moment they had all frozen in shock – a motionless tableau. Then there was a flurry of movement as everyone burst into action: Sidney gently lowered the woman to the floor and Charlotte knelt down beside them as Dr Fuchs came round to offer his assistance; Lady Denham half rose from her chair, Mr Crowe uttered an oath, Diana shrieked and Arthur started fanning his sister to prevent the same fate befalling her as had struck the hapless servant. Various conflicting directions and suggestions had been offered from different self-styled experts, before Dr Fuchs directed Sidney to carry the unconscious woman through to a couch in a nearby room, where the doctor had stayed to tend to her with the assistance of two maids quickly summoned.

The remainder of the meal had been a more subdued affair, relieved only partially by Dr Fuchs rejoining them at the end and confirming that Miss Smith had simply been overcome by the heat and was already quickly recovering.

Now, as the guests began to leave, Sidney clapped his friend on the shoulder and said, “So, Babington – going to be a father, eh? Congratulations, old man.”

Lord Babington smiled, an expression of tenderness and pride on his face as he gazed across at Esther, talking with Lady Denham. “I’m already a father,” he said simply. “I am merely yet to meet my child.”

“And do you feel up to the task ahead of you?” Sidney asked with a smile in return and a lift of his brows.

“Not at all!” replied Lord Babington, with feeling. “It seems such an awesome responsibility: to have such a tiny creature entirely dependent on you for all its needs, looking to you to guide it through life. Who could be up to such a task as that?”

“I’m sure you will both make excellent parents,” Sidney said confidently.

Mr Crowe looked uncertain. “I never really took Lady Babington for the maternal type,” he said a little cautiously, having learned from experience that Lord Babington would brook no criticism of his beloved.

But it was Sidney who responded. “Love has a way of transforming even the unlikeliest among us, doesn’t it?” His eyes fell on Charlotte, who stood with Alison as Sir Melbourne made them a lengthy farewell. He pulled his eyes back to Lord Babington. “I’m sure love for a child is one of the most transformative things there is.”

“Come on, Sidney – we’re heading off now,” called Tom, impatient to be gone.

“Yes – of course.” Sidney nodded farewell to his friends, cast one last look at Miss Heywood, then turned and followed his brother, striding out from the warm glow of the candlelight into the chill embrace of the night that waited just beyond the door.

**END OF EPISODE TWO**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fainting servant is representative of the Sanditon fandom – overcome with the heat and swooning into Sidney Parker’s arms. :-P


	24. Episode Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is anyone still with me at the end of all that dialogue, I commend you! And I promise that from now on, there will be more action – well, “action” in the period drama sense of the word, at least!

**EPISODE THREE: The Concert**

The following morning, as agreed, Lady Worcester came round to take Charlotte for a drive in her smart little curricle, at an hour some would have judged to be unfashionably early. Susan waved off Charlotte’s exclamation of admiration over the stylish carriage with a laugh. “I’m just glad I brought it with me on this visit to Sanditon – I do so enjoy having the freedom to drive myself around the countryside when the fancy strikes me instead of having to rely on others to do it.”

Charlotte waved goodbye to Alison and climbed up beside Susan, who nodded at Alison with a smile and proceeded to set the horses going at a brisk trot down the drive.

“Ah, it’s good to have the opportunity to converse in private, away from prying eyes and ears,” Susan commented as they bowled along smoothly. Charlotte agreed, relishing the freedom of this outing after the uncomfortable closeness of the previous evening. She had not, in the end, exchanged many words with Sidney Parker the night before, but his presence beside her – compounded by Sir Melbourne’s position on her other side – had been enough to have her on edge the entire evening. She felt as if she could breathe freely out here as they rolled along in the quiet morning, the cool air flowing against her cheeks.

Susan enquired after Charlotte’s family and the winter spent at home, displaying the same sympathetic ear Charlotte remembered from their brief times together the previous year, and they talked for a while with the same easy familiarity of lifelong friends.

“It’s so good to talk in person – letters just aren’t the same,” Susan said as she drove the horses expertly round a sharp bend in the road. “And goodness knows I sent you few enough of those!”

“You had King George’s death and all that went with it,” protested Charlotte. “I’m amazed you found the time to write me at all!”

“You sound as if you were kept very busy too!” replied Susan. “I’m happy to hear your time at home was so well spent. Yet you have not been very happy, have you, Charlotte?” Susan sent her a compassionate look, but clearly did not require an answer, continuing, “And how could you be, after all? Given everything that happened last summer …” She sighed pensively, then tilted her head to one side, a considering expression on her face. “And now, here you are back again with your sister to stay with Lady Denham, while the heiress seeks adventures abroad. And so the saga continues! Now tell me – how is our smouldering hero?”

“You mean Sidney Parker?” Charlotte asked doubtfully.

“Who else?” replied Susan in her teasing tone.

“He is _not_ the hero, Susan – or if he is, it is of Mrs Campion’s story!”

“What! After she threw him over for another man all those years ago? I think not.”

“Whoever he may be, he is not the hero of my story,” Charlotte said somewhat severely. _Not anymore_ , she thought to herself. Susan arched a brow but said nothing.

“Besides, you saw him yourself last night,” Charlotte pointed out in a milder tone, “so you can make your own assessment.”

“Ah, but _you_ have talked with him more, and you know him much better than I. How does he seem to you?”

“Well ... I would say his recent travels have done him good,” Charlotte replied cautiously. “It sounds as though he and Georgiana have gone a fair way to mending their relationship.”

“I’m happy to hear it. I fancy there was a time he may have come back early simply to avoid having any more of her company,” Susan said humorously.

Charlotte smiled ruefully – she could not deny it.

“And such timing for his return!” Susan continued. “That he should return early at all, let alone now – what a coincidence! Or perhaps the intervention of fate? Well – whichever it is, he is back. And still engaged to that … other woman.” She pursed her lips consideringly, tapping her foot. “So what is to be done?”

Charlotte looked at her uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean? There is nothing to be done!”

“Is there not? Are you so sure?” Susan seemed surprised.

“Yes! I mean – no! that is – I am resigned to it. I have been ever since their engagement was announced.”

“Well, _you_ may be, my dear, but I am not! ‘Tis passing strange, would you not say, that he should have chosen such a time as this to sail away on a long voyage with his ward? When he is engaged to be married? That, to me, does not speak of a pressing desire to wed. Rather, a pressing desire to avoid it!”

“It is of no consequence what his feelings may be on the matter,” replied Charlotte with some difficulty. “The situation with his brother Tom demands an advantageous alliance, and Mrs Campion provides that.”

“I would not be so sure that his feelings play such an insignificant part in the affair,” Susan said, a little slyly. “But there – this distresses you. Let us speak of something else. When did you meet Sir Melbourne?”

Charlotte was relieved at the change of topic, although discussing Sir Melbourne was hardly much of an improvement. “Just yesterday, at Lady Denham’s dinner party. Do you know him?”

“I know _of_ him by his reputation. Tell me – what do you make of him?”

“I do not like him,” Charlotte replied immediately. “He is too pleased with himself, too eager for attention, too familiar in his mode of address. He seemed to me to be very much a ladies’ man.”

“Oh yes, he is a shocking rake,” Lady Susan said tranquilly. “I thought he seemed to pay _you_ particular attention last night?”

“He was most attentive at times,” Charlotte said darkly. “I would much rather he wasn’t! I’m sure he cannot mean anything by it. We should not do well together.”

“On the contrary, I think he will do well. Oh yes, he will do very well indeed,” Susan murmured, so quietly Charlotte could not be sure if she had heard her properly, gazing ahead with a little gleam in her eye.

The rest of their drive was spent discussing unexceptional topics, and nothing further was said to disturb the harmony of the excursion; so they ended their drive in perfect charity with one another.

Just before she set Charlotte down again at Lady Denham’s manor, however, Susan looked at her and said in her earnest way, “I would not give up all hope just yet, Charlotte. Nothing is certain until the wedding vows have been spoken. Who knows? You may find that deliverance may come from the most unexpected quarter!”

Alison, when Charlotte relayed to her a little of what Susan had said, was unimpressed. “How can she encourage you to keep pining after an engaged man? What purpose is there in such a course? Why – only to prolong the pain and increase the heartbreak that must be its ultimate end! She had far better advise you to move forward without him and forget him if you can.”

Charlotte knew her sister was right – indeed, Alison’s advice was exactly what she told herself any time she found herself dwelling on what might have been. Her own resolution remained unchanged, though it had been made infinitely more difficult by Mr Parker’s unexpected return – that is, to break free of the power he held over her heart. Susan had managed to spark a tiny hope, though, that refused to be completely extinguished – a hope that somehow, in the end, Susan would prove to have been right all along.


	25. Chapter 25

Charlotte and Alison did not have long to talk about the morning’s carriage ride; Sanditon’s inaugural concert was that evening, and from the very first night they had arrived the two sisters had formed a resolution never to keep Lady Denham waiting if they could help it.

As they alighted from the carriage with Lady Denham at the steps of the assembly rooms, Lord and Lady Babington close behind them, a hum greeted their ears from the guests already thronging inside the concert venue.

This was to be Senora Fiore’s first concert in a decade, following some scandal which everybody seemed to know about, but which no one seemed to know the details of. All that Charlotte had been able to learn was that Senora Fiore had been quite a famous opera singer in the past but had effectively gone to ground all those years ago, keeping a low profile ever since. She was now finally ready to make her grand return to the operatic scene, and Tom considered it a great coup that she was willing to restart her career here in Sanditon.

“Let us hope she is worth the wait,” said Esther, as they walked up the steps to the assembly rooms. “It would be most unfortunate to build up the suspense for so long only for her to turn out to be perfectly dreadful _._ Or even worse – quite ordinary.”

“I’m sure she will only have improved with time,” said Lord Babington confidently.

“Babington – ever the optimist,” said his wife, amused. “I, for one, should not be surprised if she turns out to be simply awful.”

“Well, I suppose that would still be entertaining – in a different sort of way,” said Lord Babington with a chuckle.

“Let us hope she is worthy of her reputation – for Tom’s sake,” said Charlotte earnestly.

“Let us hope so for all our sakes,” said Esther drily, “since we are all obliged to listen to her for the whole evening.”

They entered the assembly room and, as if summoned by the mention of his name, Tom immediately came up to welcome them, visibly euphoric with the turnout. Indeed, it seemed as if the whole population of Sanditon must have come out to see Senora Fiore perform, such was the crush of people inside the concert venue.

As Lady Denham and Alison responded to Tom’s polite enquiries, Charlotte’s eyes strayed as if of their own accord in search of his brother, and found him standing to one side of the room: a tall, dark figure in a sea of colour. Other than Sidney’s still form, the room was a confusion of motion and noise; the anticipation in the air was palpable. Looking further around the room, Charlotte realised that many of the guests were unfamiliar, and she guessed a number of people had come to Sanditon for the express purpose of seeing Senora Fiore perform. Charlotte had not realised the singer had been so popular.

As the little party prepared to make its way to Lady Denham’s reserved seating in one of the balconies, Charlotte spied Mr Stringer among the crowd and smiled warmly at him; he made as if to come over their way but suddenly Sir Melbourne was there beside them with his slow smile and his smooth words, and when she looked again Mr Stringer had gone.

Charlotte was as reserved toward Sir Melbourne as she could be without being rude, while Alison did her best to avoid talking to him altogether, but it made no difference; he seemed determined to remain with them, encouraged by Lady Denham’s indulgent smiles and undeterred by any reticence on the sisters’ part.

As they made their way along to their seats, they encountered Lady Worcester, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“Lady Denham! Well met,” declared Susan warmly. “What a turnout this evening! I am sure we are in for a rare treat. I see that you have both the Misses Heywood with you. I wonder –” and she lowered her voice conspiratorially – “would you be very cross with me if I were to steal Charlotte from you for the evening?”

Lady Denham turned to Charlotte in surprise, as if bewildered at anyone’s wishing to borrow her, and said it made no difference to her if Miss Heywood wished to accompany Lady Worcester.

Charlotte thanked Lady Denham and moved gladly to go with Susan, when her friend surprised her by smiling graciously at Sir Melbourne, who was still hanging on to Lady Denham’s little group, and saying, “And I still have one spare seat in my box – Sir Melbourne, would you care to join us?”

Sir Melbourne looked gratified, flashed his teeth and said nothing would please him more, as Charlotte darted a look of consternation at her friend, only to be met with a mischievous smile. What was Susan up to?

Susan led the way to the balcony she had been granted, apparently oblivious to Charlotte’s discomfiture. Charlotte followed close behind, wondering at her friend’s behaviour. Her anticipation of the evening’s enjoyment considerably diminished, she took her seat on the raised platform set up especially for the evening and carefully kept her face expressionless as Sir Melbourne took the only seat left, one disagreeably close to hers.

“Miss Heywood – there is no need for me to ask how you are, for I can see you are in high bloom,” said Sir Melbourne with one of his wide smiles, as he settled himself more comfortably in his chair. “You look positively enchanting tonight. That dress becomes you very well, if I may say so. Tell me – do you deliberately set out to cast a spell on every gentleman you encounter, or is it quite unconsciously done?”

“Sir Melbourne, please do not talk so,” she said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Ah – I shall add feminine delicacy to your list of virtues, then,” he said with a wink. “No matter – there is plenty of time to break down those walls of yours.”

She glanced across at Susan for assistance, but she had entered into conversation with the other two guests there, both friends of hers from London, leaving Charlotte entirely at Sir Melbourne’s mercy. Very well. She summoned a smile, looked back at him and said, “But perhaps you might allow me to get to know _you_ better, Sir Melbourne – you must have more stories to tell from your time in the Russian Empire? I would be interested to hear more of your experiences there.” He looked pleased, and readily obliged.

As she sat with an attentive look on her face, letting his words wash over her, a suspicion began to grow in her mind that Susan was deliberately throwing her together with Sir Melbourne, perhaps in an effort to help her forget Sidney Parker. Surely that was absurd? Susan knew how Charlotte felt about Sir Melbourne – she had told her directly that very morning. Indeed, Susan was the one who had encouraged Charlotte not to give up hope where Mr Parker was concerned – yet here she was abandoning her to Sir Melbourne’s attentions. Was it instead a test of the fidelity of Charlotte’s affections? Or perhaps a ploy to make Sidney jealous? But to what purpose?

Whatever Susan’s designs might be – or Sir Melbourne’s, for that matter – Charlotte knew her heart was impervious to his charms. Not only was Sir Melbourne repugnant to her, but her heart was not yet hers to give. She had given it to another some months ago, and had not yet claimed it back.


	26. Chapter 26

During a break in one of Sir Melbourne’s seemingly endless reminiscences, Charlotte turned her head and found herself looking straight at Sidney, gazing back at her from where he sat in the third and final balcony, along with Tom’s family. His expression was so stern that she reddened involuntarily, feeling unaccountably guilty, before she turned quickly back to Sir Melbourne, annoyed with herself for feeling any guilt. She could not help being seated next to him; it meant nothing – and even if it did, that should mean nothing to Sidney, who was himself engaged to another. She firmly bent her attention back to the new story Sir Melbourne had begun.

After an interminable wait– or so it seemed to Charlotte – Tom finally made his way onto the stage and announced, with a lengthy preamble, the start of the concert. Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief to be spared any more of Sir Melbourne’s fascinating tales – for the time being, at least.

Senora Fiore walked out onto the stage to enthusiastic applause, a vision of elegance in her resplendent red gown. She came to a stop in the middle of the stage, inclined her head in acknowledgement of the applause, and clasped her hands neatly in front of her as an expectant hush fell on the crowd. Then she opened her mouth and as the first sweet, low notes sounded forth, any doubts as to whether she was worthy of her reputation were instantly put to rest.

Charlotte drew in a rapturous breath as the song drew her in and Sir Melbourne, and Susan, and indeed everything around her melted away in the wake of the glorious music. She had never heard such skill, such beauty, such feeling expressed in musical form. The language of the song was unfamiliar to her, but it made little difference; the emotions conveyed spoke directly to her soul.

The singer invited Charlotte to share with her in the first thrill of infatuation, the blossoming romance, the heady sweetness of love, and the inevitable bitter heartbreak; and Charlotte was powerless to refuse. The notes wrapped around her and bore her along; she soared with the melody, high above the concert-goers, enthralled, spell-bound, until the last slow, mournful notes returned her to her body again and she joined in the rapturous applause.

Charlotte’s exhilaration was such that she was well able to bear with Sir Melbourne during the interval period, even laughing at a few of his sallies. Susan and the other two guests also joined their conversation this time, expressing their admiration for Senora Fiore’s performance. They were not as enraptured as Charlotte; they had seen many other performances, and had a more critical ear; but they were happy to own it had been a very pleasing performance, very pleasing indeed – particularly in light of the lengthy absence of the singer from the stage.

At the end of the interval Senora Fiore took the stage again and, after waiting some time for the applause to die down, delighted them all with a number of shorter, more playful pieces to complete the night’s entertainment.

Charlotte sighed in contentment; she could not remember the last time she had enjoyed anything so much. Susan turned to them with a wide smile and asked how they would like to meet the singer herself. “Oh, yes please!” exclaimed Charlotte, and they all gathered up their belongings and followed Susan along the passageway _._ They were just about to descend the stairs when Charlotte suddenly discovered she had left her reticule behind.

“Oh! Excuse me – I must go back for my bag. Pray do not wait for me; I shall catch up with you directly.” So saying, she returned to the balcony and, after a little searching, had just retrieved it from where it had been tucked neatly underneath her seat, when a movement in the shadows at the far side of the enclosure made her glance up swiftly. A figure detached itself from the darkness and moved into the light; it was Sidney.


	27. Chapter 27

“Miss Heywood, I wondered if you might have time for a quick word,” he said in a low voice.

All at once her heart was beating a little faster. She looked enquiringly at him as she rose to her feet again. “Yes, of course – what is it?” she responded, a little breathlessly.

He seemed ill at ease, and unusually hesitant in broaching whatever topic he had come to speak to her about. “I was hoping I could speak to you of a particular matter – as a friend. That is, I hope you would still count me as a friend?” He spoke diffidently.

She was taken aback, not used to seeing him so reticent and unsure, and her heart went out to him, even as that word, “friend”, recalled the distance between them now.

“Of course, Mr Parker!” she said warmly.

“Yes – good, good.” He fiddled with his cane and stood there for a moment.

“What is it you wished to talk to me about?” she prompted gently.

Still he hesitated before speaking haltingly, as if choosing his words with care. “I could not help observing … that is, I happened to notice that Sir Melbourne was particularly assiduous in his attentions to you this evening,” he said. “I thought it best to warn you that I have heard various accounts of him that ... do not reflect favourably on his character.”

Charlotte stood speechless for a moment. She could hardly believe her ears and a low, incredulous laugh escaped her.

“What are these rumours you have heard, sir?” she asked, her brows raised.

“Suffice to say they would not generally be considered fit for a young lady’s ears,” he said grimly.

“Well, if you cannot give me the substance of the allegations, I fear I must remain ignorant of his true character,” she replied with frigid politeness. “I’m sure you can appreciate my desire to avoid leaping to conclusions or making hasty assumptions about his character from my own impressions of him.”

He frowned. “Surely you could not – no, never mind,” he stopped himself, thinking better of it.

“Surely I could not what, sir?” pressed Charlotte.

He paused, looking at her intently. “You cannot have formed an attachment to him already?” he asked.

“And if I have?” she responded, her brows raised in challenge. He clenched his jaw in frustration.

“Very well – allow me to speak plainly. It appears he leaves a trail of broken hearts and damaged reputations behind him wherever he goes.”

“Well – perhaps he has changed!”

He scowled at her. “What I have heard concerns recent and repeated events. Not an isolated incident.”

“You have heard this from others, you say? You would not have me judge a man based solely on the word of others, though, would you?”

He sighed in frustration. “I hoped you might not object to my input – as a friend. I see I was mistaken.”

The absurdity of the situation struck her forcefully. “Isn’t it ironic – don’t you think?” she said, “that you should seek to protect me from a man who you fear may break my heart?”

“Perhaps that makes me uniquely qualified,” he said, smiling bitterly. “We recognise those of our own kind. I see in him a man of the world, not to be trusted.”

She was lost for words.

“Forgive me. I see I have offended you. Excuse my interference – it was kindly meant.” He bowed curtly and withdrew, leaving her standing there, raging inwardly. She could not decide which was worse – that he, of all people, should have had the effrontery to interfere in such a matter, or that he thought she stood in any danger from Sir Melbourne in the first place.

The meeting with Senora Fiore forgotten, she went to rejoin Lady Denham’s party, and they all returned to Sanditon House. Charlotte sat silent in the carriage, her face stony, her thoughts consumed with the conversation she had just had. Again and again she went over their words to each other, and indignation at his presumption rose within her every time.

The thought of stoking any jealousy he might feel never even crossed her mind. For one thing, she had not the slightest intention of encouraging Sir Melbourne’s advances; for another, she was not the kind of woman to rejoice in causing jealousy in any man. Nor would such jealousy serve any purpose in this situation but to cause pain. She knew it was not through any lack of love for her that Sidney had contracted his engagement to another, and he could not very well extricate himself now. She had no desire to punish him for doing what had been necessary to save his brother from ruin. But how could he think this of her? How could he believe her so fickle, that her affections might already be in danger of being claimed by another man?

Charlotte was so infuriated by the conversation that when Lady Denham announced the following day that they were to take tea at the Parkers’ on the morrow, she was briefly tempted to cry off on account of a headache or some other invented ailment. As quickly as the idea had presented itself did she discard it, however. She could not deny that part of her still wanted to see Sidney again before he left for London, however much she might object to his interference in her affairs.

Later that day, reflecting on the exchange more calmly, she could not help wondering if it was only this particular man of whom Sidney disapproved _,_ or if he would find objections to any man for whom she might appear to develop a tendre. If that were the case, perhaps it was just as well he must depart for London soon.


	28. Chapter 28

The next day, when they presented themselves at Trafalgar House, they were once again received with great enthusiasm – Tom was still in high spirits in the aftermath of the concert’s success and all around him felt the force of his jubilation. As they were shown into the empty parlour, Charlotte thought for a moment that Sidney might have already departed for London and a sudden wave of disappointment rushed through her – her consternation was short-lived, however, with Sidney joining the little party soon after their arrival. He glanced her way, then turned and smiled politely as Lady Denham addressed him.

“Mr Sidney Parker! Still here, I see!” said Lady Denham. “How do you do?”

“Well enough, my lady – how are you?”

“Never better. I am in excellent health, thank you.”

“And how is your servant, Miss Smith?” he asked.

“She is quite well, thank you – as indeed she should be, considering she has had these past several days off: I can’t have my staff fainting on the job, you know. I’m afraid servants these days aren’t made of such strong stuff as they used to be. Most disappointing. It’s just as well she did not fall to the ground, or Dr Fuchs may have demanded she have even longer off.” Her disgust was evident.

“I’m so pleased to hear she is recovered,” said Mary, as the maid served some little cakes to Charlotte and Alison.

“I’m just glad I was there to catch her,” said Sidney, stirring his tea.

“As was she, I’m sure,” Lady Denham responded drily. “Will you be in Sanditon much longer?”

Sidney shook his head. “I leave for London tomorrow.” Charlotte kept her eyes gazing steadfastly down at the cup of tea in her hand. “I have delayed for long enough, I think,” he continued quietly.

“Ah yes – true love awaits!” exclaimed Tom, from where he stood by the mantelpiece. “How terrible for you to have been separated from your beloved for so long! You must be yearning to see her again. It was good of you to tarry here as long as you have!”

Sidney said nothing, his mouth set in a grim line, but Tom evidently required no answer. Instead it was Lady Denham who snorted and said, “Pah – love! What nonsense! Marrying for love is the stuff of fairytales. Only fit for children and imbeciles. Mr Sidney Parker is making a very sound match, to be sure, but spare me your sentimental drivel, Mr Tom Parker!”

“Our brother is in London currently,” Alison suddenly offered, looking at Sidney, as if she had just come back to the conversation from her thoughts elsewhere. “I wonder if you will encounter him there?”

“I shouldn’t imagine so,” Charlotte said quietly to her sister, a little embarrassed. “London is very large, Alison.”

“I don’t know – what is his name?” Sidney asked Alison, unperturbed.

“John Heywood,” Alison replied. “He’s seeking to establish himself there as a painter while he’s staying with our uncle. I’m afraid we have heard very little from him since he left.”

Lady Denham, uninterested in the affairs of someone who was a stranger to her, announced her readiness to discuss her business matters with Mr Parker then, and the two of them adjourned to the dining room. Soon Tom requested Sidney’s presence on a particular matter under consideration, and Mary turned to Charlotte and Alison and asked if they would like to spend some time with the children again, to which they readily agreed.

\---

Several games of tig later, Charlotte was looking decidedly worse for wear as she walked through the garden, searching for Alicia, the last child to be found in their current game of hide and seek. The children all had a disconcerting habit of running out from their hiding places just before they were about to be found and yelling wildly in an effort to scare the seeker, so Charlotte was more than usually alive to any noises around her. So it was, when a footfall suddenly sounded a short way off and Sidney’s voice said, “Miss Heywood?” she started violently and whipped round as if she were under attack. She had not expected him to seek her out.

“Forgive me – I did not mean to startle you,” he said immediately, stopping where he stood.

“Not at all,” she replied with as much dignity as she could summon, reaching up to tuck a stray lock behind her ear, suddenly aware of her disordered hair and the rumpled, dirty state of her dress. Not that it should matter, she reminded herself severely.

He did not seem to notice, in any case, simply gazing at her with an unreadable expression for a long moment before dropping his eyes.

“Miss Heywood,” he said finally, appearing to find the ground near her feet of intense fascination, “I am to leave for London tomorrow, as you know.”

“Yes, I know,” she said into the silence that followed this statement.

He looked up at her. “I was meant to leave today, but … I could not go with the way things stand between us. I would not have us part on a quarrel.” He glanced away, then back at her. “Please forgive me for my words the other evening. You were right – I am the last person who should be interfering in your affairs.” He paused, then continued with some difficulty, “Indeed, I know that I have used you very ill. I do not blame you if you do not trust me. But I hope you may believe me, Miss Heywood, when I say that I only want what is best for you.”

There was so much sincerity in his tone, and in the eyes that regarded her so steadfastly, that she could not help softening towards him.

“I do believe you,” she replied softly, “Of course I do. Indeed, I rather think I was the one at fault – you were only trying to protect me, I know.”

He shook his head. “You had every right to be angry.”

A little silence fell, but neither of them moved, neither willing to depart just yet.

“Well, in any case …” Charlotte gave a little shrug and looked up at Sidney, smiling wryly. “You may rest assured that I am in no danger from Sir Melbourne. Mary had already put me on my guard against him and your warning merely confirmed my own impression of him. I may not be a ‘man of the world’, but I am perfectly capable of seeing what kind of man he is.”

He inclined his head. “I do not doubt you,” he replied, regarding her with one of his half-smiles. He glanced down at his feet, then up at her again, saying, “I hope we are still friends, then?”

There it was – that word again. Friends. Such an absurd notion in some ways, that they could be anything of the sort after all that had passed between them. But what more was left to them? Friendship was the greatest intimacy either could expect from the other. And yet it was worse in some ways than complete estrangement – for it could never be enough.

She nodded, just as an energetic shout and running footsteps behind her announced Alicia’s approach, impatient with the time it was taking Charlotte to find her, and signalling the end of their tête-à-tête.


	29. Chapter 29

Charlotte did not see Sidney again before his departure for London the following day. Then, a few days later, Lord and Lady Babington also took their leave, and with them seemed to go Lady Denham’s good humour. For a full week after they left she was in a particularly bad mood, even by her standards. There seemed to be a constant stream of businessmen coming and going from Sanditon House, sometimes staying briefly, at other times closeted with her in her study for hours at a time, all engaged in some matter to do with Denham Place. Whenever Lady Denham emerged, her mood seemed to have grown blacker, her scowl more ferocious. Charlotte and Alison took to avoiding her presence wherever possible, taking care to say as little as possible and finding any reason they could to leave the house on walks or errands, and, judging by the silence throughout the house, the servants were doing the same.

Then, one afternoon when they were both sitting quietly in Charlotte’s room, Charlotte reading a book while Alison put the final touches on one of her sketches, they received a summons from one of the servants to see her ladyship downstairs at their earliest convenience. Alison looked at Charlotte with a look of apprehension that echoed Charlotte’s own feelings, and in some trepidation they descended the stairs to enter the drawing room.

“Ah – the Misses Heywood!” she said, looking up from where she sat by a little table. “Well, come in, come in!” she said impatiently as they lingered by the door.

“You sent for us, ma’am?” asked Charlotte, entering hesitantly.

“I did!” she replied. “Do you know on what occasion?”

“No, my lady,” Alison responded.

“You, my dear girls, are looking at the new owner of Denham Place!” she pronounced, and now she beamed in triumph and they saw there was a bowl of sweetmeats, a decanter and three cups on the tray beside her. “This calls for a celebration!”

“That’s wonderful!” Charlotte exclaimed, as she and Alison exchanged a look of surprise and relief.

“I have been saving this bottle for just such an occasion,” Lady Denham said with satisfaction, as the sisters took the seats placed next to her and a servant began pouring them a cup each. “I’ve had it sitting there these past five years, saving it for a special celebration. Heaven knows it has been a long enough road to get here,” she said grimly. “Such a tiresome business! But now, finally, I can put all this nonsense behind me and get Denham Place back up to scratch again.”

The two sisters accepted their cups from the servant and each took a cautious sip; the bitterness of the liquid caught Charlotte off guard and she wrinkled her nose, hard put to it not to cough from the strength of the drink.

“Now I just need to find someone to fix the place up again so I can sell it,” Lady Denham said sourly. “Sir Edward left the house in a very pretty state. The thing has nearly gone to ruins under his care – just like everything else he touched,” she muttered. She swirled the wine in her cup. “It will need to be completely done up – and that water feature will need replacing.”

Charlotte gazed down at the cup in her hand, wondering how much of the wine she could leave without being rude, as Alison said hesitantly, “Is not Mr Stringer training to be an architect?”

Charlotte looked up eagerly as Lady Denham replied doubtfully, “Mr Stringer – what, the foreman of Mr Parker’s work?”

“Oh, yes!” Charlotte said earnestly. “He would be just the man, Lady Denham! He has proven himself with Mr Parker’s project, and I have seen some of his architectural drawings – they are truly works of art!”

“I do not require works of art,” replied Lady Denham imperiously. “I require experience and expertise. Mr Stringer may do very well with Mr Parker’s apartments, but Denham Place is over a hundred years old – I need someone who understands those kinds of structures.”

“I’m sure Mr Stringer is up to the challenge,” said Charlotte confidently. “You just need to give him a chance, Lady Denham.”

“Well, if he wants to submit a proposal, I shall not stop him – I daresay it will be a waste of his time, though,” said Lady Denham dismissively, and the subject was over as far as she was concerned.

“The irony is not lost on me,” she continued conversationally, “that Sir Edward was scheming to inherit my property, and instead –” she popped a sweetmeat in her mouth – “I have acquired his! That’s what he got for all his scheming with that strumpet.” She chewed on the little delicacy. “The best thing about it is that it never would have worked,” she said with a sudden cackle. “Fools – the both of them. They were operating on the assumption I only had one copy of my will – ha!” She looked at the two sisters exultantly, inviting them to share in her joke. “To think I would be so careless with all those vultures encircling me, waiting for me to take my last breath. No – my solicitor had a spare copy the entire time. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know!” She laughed triumphantly, her laugh soon turning into a cough and she muttered irritably _,_ “No, I certainly wasn’t born yesterday.” She held up her cup. “Well, here’s to the frustration of others’ schemes, and to the realisation of my own,” she said and finally took a gulp of her own cup, only to immediately screw up her face in distaste. “Pah!” She spat out the offending mouthful. “What is this … this … abomination?! Take it away!” she demanded.

And so Charlotte was spared, after all, the necessity of having to finish her own drink.


	30. Chapter 30

Charlotte wasted no time in seeing Mr Stringer to put the idea of this project to him, going with Alison into town the following day.

“Mr Stringer – just the man I was hoping to see! I have a proposal for you,” she called with a bright smile as they spied him at the edge of the building site.

“Is that right? Well, what is it then?” he asked, smiling in return as he came to greet them.

“Lady Denham needs a builder! She has just finalised her purchase of Denham Place, you see, and is planning to renovate it before selling it on. She needs someone who can oversee repairs and manage the construction of some minor additions _._ We immediately thought of you! – that is, it was Alison’s suggestion, but we are both sure it would be just the thing for you.”

He cast a swift look at Alison before turning his eyes back to Charlotte, his smile slowly fading and a frown replacing it. “That’s very kind of you, miss, but I don’t think I’m the man for the job,” he said slowly.

“Why should that be?” Charlotte protested. “Lady Denham already knows you can build, and has daily evidence of your reliability – she would be foolish not to choose you!”

He shook his head. “Your loyalty does you credit, Miss Heywood, but I’m not even trained as an architect yet. Her ladyship could afford men of much greater reputation and experience than me.”

“Oh, well, it’s mainly a building project, with a small element of architecture involved. It’s the perfect chance for you to expand your talents!”

Mr Stringer looked unconvinced, opening his mouth to respond as Alison interjected softly, “What do you have to lose, Mr Stringer? What could be the harm in putting yourself forward for her consideration?” He looked at her as she continued in her quiet voice, “Other than the fear of rejection?”

Mr Robinson’s voice sounded from behind them, where he had been working, invisible to them all. “Well, you could always take on the project, do a terrible job of it and ruin your reputation for life.” He grinned at them, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Thanks for the encouragement, Fred,” Mr Stringer called to his friend, smiling wryly.

“Mr Robinson’s right, of course,” conceded Alison. “But with no risk, there will be no reward, either.”

They waited as Mr Stringer thought it over.

“Well – alright, I’ll find out some more about what’s involved,” Mr Stringer said reluctantly. “No promises, mind.”

Charlotte smiled at Alison in satisfaction. Now they only needed to ensure Mr Stringer submitted a proposal in time and that Lady Denham selected it. How they were to accomplish that, she did not yet know, but she was determined to do her best. At the very least, it gave her a scheme of her own to turn her mind and energy to – anything to keep her from dwelling on Sidney, his absence and the wedding he must even now be planning with his fiancée.

\---

Sitting on one of the plush new chairs in Mrs Campion’s London residence, Sidney gazed into the distance, heedless of the flow of words beside him until they came to an abrupt stop and his name was uttered in a sharp tone.

“Sidney – I declare you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said!” Eliza reprimanded him, her playful tone not quite concealing the edge of irritation to her words. She sat, perched delicately on a nearby chair in one of her larger sitting rooms, a long list of some kind held in one gloved hand while a pen in the other tapped an impatient tattoo on the little table between them.

“I’m sorry, Eliza – what were you saying?” He forced his thoughts back to the present.

She pouted. “No, really, Sidney, that’s too bad of you!” He sighed and tried to suppress his exasperation. Eliza could never just let things go: if she had a grievance, it had to be aired in full. “Here I am, doing all the wedding preparations and you are not demonstrating any interest whatsoever!”

“I thought you enjoyed being in charge of the decisions, Eliza,” he said wearily.

“I do, of course, but I thought you would have _some_ opinions to share – it is your wedding day too, you know! You are leaving me to do all the work! It’s hardly fair! You have been off gallivanting around the world all these months, and now that you are back, you seem to be forever out somewhere – with those friends of yours, or at those gentlemen’s clubs, or engaged in that other horrid pastime of yours.” She shuddered. “I’ve never understood how pugilism can hold such an attraction for so many men. It seems quite beastly to me.”

“I’m sorry, Eliza,” he said again, rubbing his brow. “I’ve been feeling a little … under the weather lately, and it helps me to clear my head.”

“Lately?” She gave an incredulous little laugh. “Why, it seems to me you’ve been in a fit of the dismals ever since your return from overseas. I declare, it’s enough to put one all out of patience with you!”

“It’s not in my nature to simply put on a smile and feign a cheerfulness I don’t feel, _”_ he replied impatiently. “That’s not who I am.”

“Well, but why should you not be happy? What do you have to be so gloomy about? I have made full allowance for some natural tiredness as a result of your extended travels, but this has lasted for far too long. Why, looking at your long face one could almost imagine you were dreading the wedding!” She gave one of her tinkling laughs, but the humour did not quite reach her eyes.

He said nothing, looking away with a grim look on his face.

She sighed. “I’m sorry, darling – I’m a bit worn out from the wedding planning. It will all be better once we’re married – you’ll see.” She smiled up at him, leaned across to pat his cheek, and, satisfied that she now had his full attention, started from the beginning of her list again.

**END OF EPISODE THREE**


	31. Episode Four

**EPISODE FOUR: The Expedition**

The sky was grey as the two sisters made their way into town; in fact, it seemed to Charlotte as if all the days lately had been overcast. Lady Denham’s good mood had not lasted very long, all the visitors to Sanditon seemed to have left again and the weather was more often inclement than not. No wonder she felt listless and flat these days.

She was glad of a project to give her a sense of purpose; Mr Stringer had, in the end, decided to submit a proposal on Denham Place for her ladyship’s consideration and Charlotte was to pick it up today. She was determined to do all that was within her power to help him succeed in his bid: he was a good, kind man, and he deserved every success in life. Alison agreed with her, although she was more cautious about his chances of succeeding.

“We do not want to get his hopes up, Charlotte,” she said as they neared the outskirts of the town. “Of course _we_ regard Mr Stringer highly and we would choose him if it were up to us, but Lady Denham is a most unpredictable lady – who knows what she might be looking for in someone to do the renovations? She can be quite eccentric at times; there is no saying what she might do.”

The two sisters parted ways once they reached the town, Alison heading toward the post office while Charlotte went directly to call on Mr Stringer.

“Miss Heywood!” he said, greeting her with one of his big smiles as he let her in. He looked particularly cheerful, if a little tired; she guessed he had been staying up late the last few nights working on his proposal. She knew it would not have been the first time he had foregone sleep for the sake of his job: he was a man who took great pride in his work, and would not be content submitting anything below the high standards he set for himself. Nor had his commitment to his work abated since the tragic death of his father, either; if anything, Mr Stringer’s dedication seemed to have increased since the previous summer.

He showed her the sketches he had prepared for Lady Denham and she exclaimed over them with admiration. She could tell he had put a great deal of effort into them, despite his initial reluctance to apply for the job.

“These are wonderful!” she said warmly. “I will show them to Lady Denham at the earliest opportunity – that is,” she corrected herself, “at the earliest propitious opportunity. I shall wait until she is in a good temper.” She gave him a meaningful smile, but did not receive one in return; he seemed distracted, gazing intently down at his hands clasping the back of a chair by the table.

“Mr Stringer?” she said gently. “Is everything alright?”

“What’s that?” He started. “Oh – you know how things are, miss. Always busy around here.” He paused, tidying the papers back into the folder for Charlotte to take back to Lady Denham. “It’s just – I was wondering … that is, I was meaning to ask if you’d been to see the sea caves yet?”

“Which caves do you mean?” Charlotte replied, frowning as she searched her memory. “I don’t think I’ve heard of any sea caves.”

“Oh, they're nothing much – or rather, they used to be nothing much, just sea caves at the bottom of the cliffs an hour or so's walk up the coast.”

“I expect it's something you get to know when you live in the area,” suggested Charlotte.

“That’s right,” said Mr Stringer. “Old Robinson – Fred's father, that is – he was talking to me the other day, and he mentioned how these caves had fallen in at the end, so there's an opening up on the top of the cliff where you can look into the cave below. When the wind is coming in the right direction, and the tide is in, the waves travel through the cave opening, and up out the hole with a kind of a whooshing.” He made a whooshing motion with his hands, indicating what happened to the water as it jetted out of the blow hole into the sky. “I thought it might be an interesting place to visit, to see how it's changed.” He hesitated, looking down at his hands again, before looking back up at her. “Do you think you would like to go and see them sometime, Miss Heywood?”

“Indeed I would!” she replied eagerly. “I should like it above all things! It sounds fascinating.”

He smiled, a look of relief on his face.

“Thank you for telling me of it, Mr Stringer!” she continued, already planning out the expedition in her head. “Mary was just saying we should go for a walk somewhere together, or on some kind of outing – I shall suggest it to her and we could take the children with us. We could make a day of it!” This sounded like just the sort of thing she needed to wrench her out of her doldrums.

Mr Stringer looked at her with a strange expression on his face and opened his mouth as if to say something further, when there was a knock at the door. He exhaled and pulled the door open to show Alison standing there.

“Good morning! I have come for Charlotte –” she began, stopping as she saw his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” He smiled ruefully, sighed and shook his head. “Not at all, Miss Alison. You’re not interrupting anything.”

Alison entered hesitantly, as if unsure of her welcome there in spite of Mr Stringer’s assurance. “I am sorry if I came at a bad time,” she said to him quietly, but it was Charlotte who replied.

“Not at all, Alison – I was just about to leave. I have Mr Stringer’s proposal here!” Charlotte held up the folder to show her sister. “But I have promised to wait until Lady Denham is in a cheerful frame of mind before putting it before her.”

“You may be waiting a while, then,” Alison said pointedly, before reddening, appearing to remember it was unbecoming to speak of one’s hostess in such a way in polite company.

The two sisters took their leave of Mr Stringer, who seemed a little more subdued than when Charlotte had arrived – no doubt anxious as to how his proposal would be received by Lady Denham. As luck would have it, the sisters ran into Mary nearly immediately, just coming out of the haberdashery. Charlotte quickly described to her what Mr Stringer had said about the sea caves.

“Does it not sound amazing?” said Charlotte. “I thought we might all go together with the children!”

“It does sound quite extraordinary!” replied Mary, visibly struck. “I’m sure the children would very much like to see it – although, to be perfectly honest, I shouldn’t wonder if they would agree to see anything, so long as there was some expedition involved! They do so love to see new places and things. I shall consult with Tom – maybe we could arrange a family outing, all of us together with you and Alison.”

They completed the rest of their errands in town and returned to Sanditon House, Charlotte determined to submit Mr Stringer’s proposal at the earliest available opportunity. As it happened, however, Alison’s warning proved more prescient than she could have known; Lady Denham spent the next full week in such an irritable state that Charlotte knew it would have been disastrous to make any attempt on Mr Stringer’s behalf.

Mary sent word that Tom thought an expedition to the sea caves was a splendid idea, and that Arthur and Diana were interested in coming too – she hoped Charlotte and Alison would not object to the extra company. No objections being raised, they arranged to make the trip the following week, once Tom had returned from his latest trip to London.


	32. Chapter 32

“Sidney, darling, where is that ring of your mother’s you mentioned the other day?” Mrs Campion’s clear voice cut through the stillness as the rustle of her skirts announced her entry into the room. Sidney looked up from his newspaper with a frown.

“It’s still in the old house back in Sanditon – why do you ask?”

“Well …” she said with an extended pause, smiling coyly, “I was thinking it would be rather sweet to have it as my wedding ring – something old, you know! Don’t you think that would be a nice touch, my love? Could you go and pick it up sometime in the next week so I can have a look at it?”

He paused. “As you wish, Eliza. I am not sure it will be to your taste, however,” he said repressively.

“Well, there is only one way of determining that!” she responded with alacrity. “Besides, I have quite made up my mind to love it. It will need to be resized, of course, but that’s easily enough done – and if there are some elements I don’t like, why, it would be no very great matter to have them replaced with something else, I’m sure.”

“I’m afraid I will need to check with Arthur first before I simply go ahead and claim it,” Sidney said with a frown.

Eliza laughed. “Oh, I shouldn’t imagine he will be needing it anytime soon!” Her laugh died on her lips as she caught sight of Sidney’s expression. “Oh, very well, ask him if you must! But pray do not stay away too long!” she pouted. “You have only just arrived back, and I am loath to part with you for any longer than I have to!”

Sidney did not echo her sentiment, merely promising to make a short visit to Sanditon as soon as was convenient, on the mission she had set him.

**\---**

The morning before they were due to make the trip to the sea caves, Charlotte came down to breakfast to find that the black cloud finally appeared to have lifted from Lady Denham’s brow, and she wasted no time in broaching the topic of the Denham Place renovations.

“Lady Denham, I wondered if you might have some time after the meal to look at some sketches Mr Stringer gave me? He has come up with some wonderful ideas for improvements that could be made to Denham Place.”

“Mr Stringer?” Lady Denham looked back at her in mystification and Charlotte felt her stomach sink.

“Yes, Mr Stringer – you said he might apply for the job to oversee the renovations?”

“But it’s too late, my dear – I have already made my decision. I have decided to engage a Mr Wren, from London – he comes highly recommended.” Lady Denham spooned some more sugar into her tea with a satisfied air as Charlotte gazed back at her in dismay.

“But you have not even seen Mr Stringer’s proposal! I have it in my room – I did not think you would make your decision so soon!” Charlotte exclaimed, greatly distressed.

“I am not one to dally once I have made up my mind to do something,” Lady Denham said firmly. “I do not see the point of it. Nor am I given to second guessing myself. I have made my decision to hire Mr Wren – and that’s that.”

“Are you quite sure? Is there no possibility of your changing your mind?” Charlotte asked in desperation.

“My dear child,” Lady Denham said as she put the spoon back down and gazed at Charlotte with an expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “It is not my fault you persuaded Mr Stringer to spend however long it took to come up with his proposal. I never gave any assurance that I would consider his application. I cannot help it if you gave him a false sense of hope in submitting his work.”

Charlotte leaned her head in her hands, feeling utterly miserable, and said in a low voice, “Oh, what shall I tell him? This is all my fault.”

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to tell Mr Stringer it’s too late,” Lady Denham responded with perfect equanimity. “Life’s like that sometimes: a little disappointment is inevitable now and again. He’s a grown man – he can handle it.”


	33. Chapter 33

The next day, Charlotte and Alison arrived at Trafalgar House at the agreed time, Charlotte carrying with her Mr Stringer’s folder of work, just as Mr Stringer himself emerged with a briskness that suggested another appointment awaited him. He tipped his hat to them in greeting and Charlotte briefly considered letting him know of Lady Denham’s decision right then; but no, the timing wasn’t right. She did not wish to convey her news in such a public place, with no time to discuss it properly. Instead she called as he began to make his way down the street, “Mr Stringer – I shall come and see you once we are back!” His answer came floating back to them along the street: “I’ll look forward to it, miss!”

They entered the house and, after checking first with Mary, Charlotte took the folder to the study to store it there safely until they were back. She emerged from the study, shut the door and as she turned around, abruptly came face to face with Mr Sidney Parker.

“Mr Parker!” she exclaimed blankly, as he stopped in his tracks, regarding her with that intensity that always flooded her with warmth. He opened his mouth to respond.

“Charlotte!” came Tom’s cheery voice, as he came striding along the passageway, halting alongside his brother. “You are here now – excellent! Sidney arrived yesterday evening, quite out of the blue, and I told him he must accompany us today!”

“Oh yes – of course!” Charlotte replied, still slightly stunned, her eyes not moving from Sidney’s face.

“There – you see, Sidney?” Tom clapped his brother on the shoulder, before turning back to Charlotte. “I was sure you would have no objection, my dear, although Sidney seemed to think there might be some problem with him coming along.”

“N–not at all!” Charlotte stammered, keeping her voice as steady as she could, despite the thudding of her heart and the churning of her stomach at having him so near again, so unexpectedly. “What objection could I possibly have?” she said, as Sidney continued to gaze at her intently.

“Precisely.” Tom nodded. “I seem to recall there was a time last year when the two of you did not get on the best, but that’s all well behind us now. I think we shall all make a very happy party today.”

So saying, he ushered them along the hall to where everyone was now assembled, preparing to go.

**\---**

Tom turned out to be right in his prediction, for the most part; the children were all in high spirits to be going to see ‘the giant exploding fountain’, as Henry described it, and their enthusiasm was contagious. They piled into the dogcarts that were to take them as far as they could go along the country lanes, along with Diana and the servants, while Arthur, after vacillating for some time, decided he felt bold enough to attempt the journey across country on foot with the others. It was a fine, sunny day and the walk there turned out to be very pleasant – although their progress was rather slower than if Arthur had decided to take the dogcart after all. The route they took meandered across gently rolling farmland and country lanes, through a few groves of trees and even across a little stream that had convenient stepping stones for crossing. Tom cheerfully acted as a local tour guide to Charlotte and Alison, pointing out local landmarks and interesting features, or directing their attention to various objects that were associated with some significant event from the Parkers’ younger years. Sidney walked with Arthur behind them, falling steadily further and further behind until they disappeared from view.

They eventually arrived at the location Mr Stringer had described to Charlotte, somewhat later than they had planned, but still before high tide _._ There they found that the servants, at the children’s urgent request, had already laid out the picnic lunch prepared for the occasion, and the children were waiting impatiently for them to arrive so they could make a start. Tom graciously granted them leave to begin the meal as the rest of them went to investigate the blowhole.

The area did not look so different from the rest of the terrain nearby; grass blanketed the ground up to the edge of the cliff, which tumbled down in a rocky pile to the shore not too far below. At a particular spot at the top of the cliffs, however, a little back from the edge, there was a depression, like a giant had poked a hole in the grass with a finger. They peered cautiously down into the gloom. Water sloshed and splashed in the darkness of the cave.

“Don’t fall down!” Diana called nervously from where she sat on the picnic rug.

Their curiosity sated for the present, the new arrivals went to partake in some lunch with the others on the rug, where they were joined in a little while by Sidney walking up patiently alongside Arthur, who staggered up to them, nearly collapsed on the rug and fell upon the feast with an urgency that suggested a trek five times as long as the one he had just completed.

Following their repast, to help pass the time while they waited for the tide to come in, Jenny proceeded to perform an aria for them, inspired by the recent concert, Henry accompanying her somewhat unevenly on a makeshift drum. They all applauded with gusto at the end of the song as Jenny stood solemnly, receiving it as her due. Then it was Alicia’s turn to sing for them, before Tom declared that the children had delighted them long enough; the time had now come for them to see the blowhole start to erupt.

They turned in the direction of the blowhole and talked idly while the minutes ticked by, until Charlotte started to wonder if there was going to be anything to see at all. As the children began to shift restlessly, Tom wandered over to the hole in the ground and peered inside.

“I can’t see anything much,” he called.

“Do be careful!” Mary called back, frowning in concern.

Just then, a light puff of spray shot up out of the hole, turning to mist as it danced in the sunlight. The children cheered and Diana clapped her hands. The ground rumbled with a low booming sound as another wave came in, and then a stream of water jetted into the air. Tom ran back, droplets of water clinging to his hair, his eyes shining, as exclamations of delight rang out from them all.

“Now that’s a proper eruption!” he pronounced enthusiastically.

Another wave, and the air was rent with another jet of water, spraying high into the air before descending in a glittering cascade. The children squealed and the older ones ran over to play under the falling water, while little James began to cry at all the loud noises.

Tom stood and surveyed the fountains of spray, growing ever more impressive as the tide rose higher and higher, a look of great satisfaction on his face.

“It’s just what I was hoping for!” he exclaimed. “We must get the word out about this natural phenomenon, just a short walk away from Sanditon – people will be lining up to come and see this!”

Mary looked at him, a mixture of indulgent affection and exasperation on her face. “My love, can we not simply enjoy an outing as a family without thinking of ways to promote Sanditon?”

“But they are not mutually exclusive, my dear! Why not both?” he responded with unimpaired ebullience. Turning with a laugh, he called to his children to join him in a game of tig, which they were most happy to do. Tom seemed to have as much energy as the children, running recklessly around with them until Mary intervened, persuading her husband and Sidney to take them exploring instead before someone did themselves an injury. Arthur popped the last of the little pastries in his mouth, scrambled to his feet and followed his brothers, calling out that he was coming too.

The ladies were left on their own; Alison turned to Diana with a smile and said, “Mr Parker was pointing out to us on the way here all the different places he remembered from his childhood – were you accustomed to come here often as children?”

“Oh! No,” Diana replied airily. “That is, the boys did, when they were younger, but I usually stayed home with one ailment or another – I was a very sickly child, you know. And then, when we were older, after our parents had passed on – may their souls rest in peace – I generally stayed behind to look after Arthur. My poor brother and I have always had very delicate constitutions, you see.”

Quite unintentionally, Alison had started Diana on her favourite topic, and now, without quite knowing how it happened, she found herself regaled with all the various sicknesses that had afflicted Arthur and Diana from their infancy until nearly the present day, until Mary managed to divert the conversation into channels that were as agreeable to the rest of them as this one was to Diana.


	34. Chapter 34

It had been such a fine morning that when the weather turned, it took them by surprise. Diana was the first to notice the shift in temperature, shivering and pulling her shawl closer about her shoulders. “Oh, I do hope the men don’t stay away much longer!” she fretted. “That wind has definitely picked up, and look there – those clouds on the horizon bode very ill, unless I’m much mistaken!” Charlotte followed her gaze, wondering how she had not noticed the bruised clouds gathering ominously in the distance until now.

Mary looked at the clouds with a frown on her face. “Time to pack up, I think,” she said, and rose to suit the action to the words, the rest of them following her lead.

It wasn’t long before Tom returned with the others, hastening up to them with a distracted smile as he anxiously regarded the menacing sky. “Ah, good, good, you are nearly ready to go – excellent. Let us make haste – that’s a proper storm on the way, mark my words.”

Tom proceeded to fidget about them nervously as he attempted to speed up the process, achieving quite the opposite effect, until Mary induced him to organise the travel arrangements for the return home instead, a task he was very happy to undertake. It was quite simple, really: all the ladies would go in the dogcarts, of course, with the children; but no, both the Misses Heywood were perfectly happy to walk? Surely not, they had already walked so far today – but were they quite sure? Well then, in that case Arthur could have a seat, while he would see to it that the young ladies got home safely – or would Sidney be happy to see to that? Then Tom could get back in good time to go and see that the building site was properly secured in advance of the coming storm. Not that he needed to – he was sure Mr Stringer would have it well under control – but just to be on the safe side.

Thus the arrangements were finalised; Charlotte and Alison started out on foot, accompanied by Sidney, while the rest made the short trip to squeeze into the carts for the ride home. The little party that set out to walk home was rather more subdued and purposeful than the one that had left Sanditon that morning, all of them eager to make it back before the storm reached them. They made good progress, keeping conversation to a minimum as they traversed the countryside, and had soon covered over half the distance.

**\---**

They passed through a wooded area and Sidney excused himself, telling them to go on ahead; he would soon catch them up. Charlotte and Alison continued on, coming to a grassy field and beginning to cross it as a quick glance back showed that Sidney was coming up behind them.

Perhaps it was the glance back; perhaps it was their brisk pace as they hurried across the field, racing the coming storm. Whatever it was, the first Charlotte knew of the little hole in the field they were crossing was her foot going down, down, where there should have been firm ground, and a wrenching pain flaring in her ankle as she lost her balance and sprawled on the grass.

“Charlotte! Are you alright?” Alison knelt by her in concern as Charlotte sat up, her embarrassment at her loss of dignity eclipsing any pain she felt.

“I’m fine, Alison,” Charlotte responded a little sharply, cross with herself for such carelessness. To prove the truth of her words, she got to her feet, only to let out a little cry of pain as her ankle made its injury known.

Sidney could not fail to have heard it as he hastened up from behind them to stand a few paces away, his brows knit together in concern.

“You’re not fine, Charlotte – that was quite a nasty fall,” Alison said sternly. “Come – let me see your ankle.” Reluctantly, Charlotte allowed her sister to help her sit down again; Alison carefully unlaced her boot before gently moving her ankle to determine the severity of the injury. Sidney looked on, his brow furrowed as Charlotte did her best to suppress the expressions of pain Alison’s movements produced.

“I shall carry you back,” he suddenly said, in a decisive tone.

“No, indeed, I am quite alright!” Charlotte protested, once again rising and attempting to put some weight on her stockinged foot. Instead, the pain made her gasp and she had to grit her teeth to stifle another cry.

“You are not alright; don’t be a headstrong fool.” His tone was brisk as he stared at her sternly. For some reason, it seemed very important to Charlotte that she manage the journey back without his aid.

“I can make it, I’m sure of it – I can just lean on Alison and go slowly…”

“Nonsense. It will be much more efficient if I carry you. You can see the clouds: there’s a storm coming. We do not have the time to wait for you to hobble back.” It was clear he meant to brook no opposition. If the thought of him carrying her made his pulse quicken as it did hers, he gave no sign of it. He seemed to regard it as a matter of simple expediency.

She gazed at him mutely but made no more protestations as he shrugged off his coat and handed it to Alison, before walking over, bending and picking her up as if she weighed nothing at all. Alison picked up her boot and the little bag she had dropped, and came along behind them.

Charlotte focused on breathing steadily, gazing determinedly at the sky, the field they were in – anything other than his chest, his windswept hair, his face so near hers. He startled her by speaking. “If your reluctance to be carried arose from a fear that I may not be able to support your weight, you may rest assured I have been exercising recently and I believe I’m up to the task.”

Charlotte drew a sharp breath and raised indignant eyes to his face, a stinging rebuke for his impertinence on the tip of her tongue, until she caught his smirk and the mischievous gleam in the eyes that gazed ahead. She choked back a laugh. “You are very rude, sir!”

“It is one of my besetting sins, I’m afraid,” he admitted ruefully.

“As I have cause to know,” she observed pointedly.

“Indeed, and you have borne it as no other woman would,” he remarked softly. The sudden change in tone discomfited Charlotte, and she remained silent. As if sensing her withdrawal, he continued in a brisk tone, “If that’s not it, then – perhaps you feared that after the vigorous exercise you might not be – ah – in a fit state to be carried?”

“No indeed, sir,” rejoined Charlotte with spirit, damping down a sudden fear that she might indeed smell a little worse for wear. “I feared that _you_ might not be in a fit state for carrying _me_.”

“I see,” he responded again, a little smile lurking on his lips. “I do apologise if anything about my person offends you in any way.”

Since her proximity to his person rather enhanced his charms than diminished them, Charlotte could think of nothing to say to this. Instead she said quietly, “I don’t expect your fiancée would be pleased with you carrying me.”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he responded grimly, and the look in his eyes as he glanced at her made her blood race.

She judged it wisest to keep silent, and so they continued on, Charlotte unable to tell which was stronger: the pain that throbbed in her ankle, or the sweet sensation of being held firmly against his chest, breathing in his scent of tobacco, sweat and sea salt. Surreptitiously gazing at him as he walked on, she tried to memorise his face: the line of his nose, the curve of his soft lips, the lashes fringing his eyes that looked intently ahead. When her thoughts were tempted to wander to forbidden realms, her senses close to being overcome by the closeness of him, she ruthlessly wrenched her mind back from the precipice, sternly reminding herself that he was not hers, he was another’s – he could never be hers, no matter how much her heart seemed incapable of accepting it.

So they covered the remaining distance to Tom and Mary’s, Charlotte carried safely in the circle of his arms, as the wind picked up around them and the clouds came ever closer.


	35. Chapter 35

They arrived back at Trafalgar House some time later, where they were received with some alarm at the sight of Charlotte being carried in Sidney’s arms. Charlotte’s reassurances went only a little way toward relieving Mary’s concern, who sent directly for Dr Fuchs and arranged a comfortable chair in a sitting room with a footstool for Charlotte, until a bedroom could be prepared.

“Thank you, Mr Parker,” Charlotte said demurely as Sidney set her down gently on the chair provided.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he responded in a low voice, casting one last, long look at her before he bowed and left the room. She had no time then to dwell on their journey back, as Alison came up immediately to see what assistance she could lend in making Charlotte more comfortable, and Mary entered the room soon afterward, her mind clearly made up that Charlotte must stay there the night – if not longer. “You are in no fit state to be moved, Charlotte, and the weather is turning quite wild outside – I’m glad you were able to get back when you did. By the time Dr Fuchs has been able to see you and we’ve arranged a carriage to take you, I’m afraid it will no longer be safe for you to make the trip. Tom wouldn’t hear of it, I’m sure. You wouldn’t mind staying here, would you?”

“No, of course not, but I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you …” Charlotte began.

“Oh, come now, Charlotte,” Mary scolded gently, cutting her off. “Tom will be back any minute now from going to check on Mr Stringer and the building work, and I know he will say the same as me.” As she spoke, a door closed in the distance and they heard Tom’s voice indistinctly.

“Ah, there he is now,” Mary said, hurrying away to greet him, as Charlotte looked at Alison in dismay. “Oh no! Mr Stringer! I had completely forgotten – he is expecting me! I had intended to return his drawings to him today and tell him of Lady Denham’s decision.”

“I can go instead,” offered Alison quickly.

“Oh no – there’s no need!” Charlotte protested immediately. “I’m sure I could just go tomorrow. It will make no difference whether he hears the news today or tomorrow.”

“It’s not far,” Alison said, already reaching for her spencer and starting to put it on. “I must get back to Lady Denham’s anyway.”

Charlotte frowned in concern. “The weather seems to be worsening, Alison – it might be best if you just stay here tonight too. I’m sure Tom and Mary wouldn’t mind!”

“Maybe, but I would rather not. If I get going now I’m sure I can beat the weather,” Alison said, looking out the window at the leaves scudding by.

“Truly, Alison, I don’t think –” Charlotte began, but her sister cut in. “The sooner I go, Charlotte, the better chance I have of making it back in time, so I had best not delay. You needn’t worry about me; I’ll be quite alright.”

Alison had that obstinate look on her face that Charlotte knew well, and she sighed in defeat, giving up in her attempt to persuade her sister; she knew Alison could be just as stubborn as her once she had set her mind to something. “I hope he may not be too disappointed,” Charlotte frowned.

Alison smiled, but there was no humour in it. “I fear he is a man well used to disappointments,” she said, and then she was gone.


	36. Chapter 36

It did not take Alison long to cover the distance to Mr Stringer’s house, though the weather had deteriorated more than she had expected, and she was obliged to clutch Mr Stringer’s folder tight against her chest to prevent the wind from ripping it away. She knocked on his door and waited several long moments with no response, as the wind blew ever stronger about her, cutting through her thin coat. She was not sure if he had heard her knock, given the noise of the wind outside; certainly she could hear nothing from within his house.

“Mr Stringer?” she called, knocking again, more loudly this time. “It’s Miss Heywood!”

A few more moments passed, and then the door opened and he appeared before her. She observed how his face fell, almost imperceptibly, upon seeing that it was her, before he gathered himself and showed her inside.

“Come in, Miss Heywood, come in,” he urged her, as she ducked inside, breathing a sigh of relief at the relative stillness of his home. His dog whined a greeting at her from where he lay in a corner, as if hiding from the coming storm. “It’s turned into a right foul day, and it’s only meant to get worse. You’re lucky to find me home – I’ve only just arrived back after securing the building site. What can I do for you, miss?”

As he spoke, his eyes fell on the folder she clutched in her arms and she saw understanding dawn on his face.

“Charlotte sent me to bring your proposal back, Mr Stringer,” she said, and he looked back up at her. She could tell from the look of resignation that crept over his face that he could see what the outcome was to be before she had uttered another word.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Stringer,” she said simply. “She has chosen another instead.”

He gave a little laugh; she could see he was striving to keep his disappointment from showing. “Ah, well, it was foolish to get my hopes up,” he said, turning away with a little shrug.

“No, it wasn’t,” she said immediately. “The folly was hers, in choosing someone else.” They stood there in silence for a moment, as Alison searched for the right thing to say. “For what it’s worth,” she offered, knowing it would be worth very little, “Charlotte and I both thought your ideas were very good.”

He smiled regretfully and sighed. “Thank you, miss,” he said in a low voice.

They stood there a few moments longer; there seemed to be nothing more to say. “Well, I must be getting back to Lady Denham’s,” she said, turning to go. He recalled himself and moved hastily to open the door for her. He was greeted with a flurry of light rain as the wind seized eagerly on the sudden opening, sending a fierce blast into the breach. He immediately forced the door shut again, a look of alarm on his face.

“You’re not going back in that,” he said decidedly. “Not on your own, that is,” and he took down his coat hanging by the door and started to shrug it on.

“I’m sure I will be perfectly fine,” she protested weakly. He dismissed her protestation with a shake of his head as he reached for his hat. “I can’t send you back alone in that weather, miss. How could I live with myself if something were to happen to you on the way?”

She abandoned her half-hearted attempt to dissuade him; she would, after all, be glad of his strong presence beside her. They left the safety of his house and she sheltered against the wall as he pulled the door to behind them, fastening it securely shut. Turning to make their way down the street, they were brought short by Mr Robinson hailing them. “You’re not heading out in this weather?” he called as he stopped in front of Mr Stringer’s house, hugging his coat around him.

“I’m just taking Miss Heywood back!” Mr Stringer called back, raising his voice to make himself heard above the wind. “Keep an ear out for the dog, would you? He’s a bit of a coward when it comes to storms.”

Mr Robinson nodded, moving on again. “Aye aye, boss!”

Mr Stringer walked with Alison to the edge of the town and together they started along the path to Sanditon House, as the drops of rain came faster and harder and the wind picked up its pace. Walking as quickly as they safely could, they made their way through the church grounds, past the old mill and down the country lanes. Away from the modest shelter afforded by the houses in town, they were exposed more fully to the storm’s growing strength, and Alison had to squint her eyes and turn her head to protect herself from the leaves, twigs and other debris that flew toward them in a demented dance, borne along helplessly before the power of the wind.

Some trees a little way along provided a welcome reprieve from the power of the storm, although from the way the wind tore at the branches it looked as though the trees might soon be more of a danger than a help. Leaving the little glade behind, they climbed the slope that led to the final stretch of ground before Lady Denham’s estate.

Wet and windswept, they emerged onto the exposed plain and the wind assailed them with all the force of its fury. Mr Stringer gripped Alison’s arm to help her brace against it, positioning himself to take the brunt of the assault for her, as she raised her other arm as a shield. He looked back the way they had come, wondering briefly if it had been a mistake for them to attempt the journey; but they were nearly there now, after all – there was nothing for it but to keep going. So they struggled on together along the path, fighting against the driving wind and rain that snatched their breath away and sought to knock them off their feet.

After what seemed an eternity, they made it to the edge of Lady Denham’s estate; it was not far to go now. As they began the descent to the house, a streak of lightning rent the sky and Mr Stringer glanced at Alison with concern, thinking perhaps to find her agitated or alarmed; instead his eyes widened as he beheld her reckless smile, her eyes alight with excitement as she turned to look back at him fearlessly. She called something out to him but a thunderclap drowned out her words; she laughed in delight, turning her eyes heavenward to the clouds that roiled overhead. Then she slipped on the wet grass and would have fallen but for his grip that held her steady; still she laughed wildly as he helped her find her footing and they covered the remaining distance to the entrance.

Mr Stringer pounded on the door; they did not have long to wait before the doors opened to admit them and they stumbled inside. The heavy doors shut behind them with a ponderous thud and they simply stood there for a moment, gazing at one another in the sudden stillness, panting, wet and bedraggled, Alison still with a grin on her face as Mr Stringer looked back at her, wide eyed.

Then the servant there divested them of their soaked outer garments as Alison said with relief, “Thank you, Higgs!”

Higgs pursed his lips in disapproval at the state they were in, but merely said, “You will be in time to join her ladyship for dinner if you hurry, Miss Heywood.”

“Oh – good!” she said. “Mr Stringer will also need some food – and could you please prepare a room for him, too? He will be staying the night.”

“Very good, ma’am,” Higgs bowed, departing to carry out this task as Mr Stringer frowned at Alison, opening his mouth to raise an objection.

She spoke first. “Mr Stringer, you must stay here,” she said, looking back at him with a mixture of apology and defiance, even as she pushed her sodden hair back off her face. “I cannot send you back out in that – you must see that. After all – how could I live with myself if something were to happen to you on the way?” She stood there, gazing at him, and he was powerless to resist the appeal in her eyes. He admitted defeat with a sigh, a little smile and a shake of his head. “What about the lady of the house?”

“I will speak to her,” said Alison confidently. “First we must get changed and have something to eat. I shall come and find you after dinner.”


	37. Chapter 37

After Mr Stringer had dried off, changed into a spare set of clothes provided by one of the servants and partaken of a hearty meal in a little room off the kitchen, he looked up from polishing off the last of his meat to find Alison quietly entering the room. Gone was the wild girl laughing with sheer exhilaration at the power of nature on display, her hair and skirts whipping about her in the tempest; in her place stood an unobtrusive young woman again, changed into a fresh gown with her hair swept neatly back into place.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal?” she asked.

“Very much, thank you,” he replied, wiping his mouth with his napkin and rising.

“I spoke to Lady Denham – she would be very happy for you to stay here until morning,” she said.

“I’m much obliged to her ladyship,” replied Mr Stringer gravely. Alison lingered. “And … well … she also thought you might be interested in seeing the architecture of her house,” Alison said a little shyly.

“Lady Denham thought that, did she? That was mighty considerate of her!” Mr Stringer replied, with a raised brow.

“Well, she thought you might be once I suggested it to her,” Alison admitted with a twinkle in her eye. She hesitated, and her expression sobered as she continued haltingly, “And… she also thought… you might be interested in some of the valuable objects lying around. So I am to accompany you round. I hope you don’t mind?”

“What?” He exhaled sharply, frowning. “I’ll be glad of your company, miss – I don’t mind about that part! But what cause does she have to be suspicious of me? Just because I’m not a gentleman she thinks I’m a thief?”

“It doesn’t seem fair,” Alison said with sympathy. “Although – please don’t take this the wrong way, Mr Stringer, but … perhaps it’s your hat,” she suggested apologetically.

She elicited a surprised laugh from him. “What’s wrong with my hat?” he exclaimed.

Alison giggled. “It looks exactly like what a brigand might wear,” she said.

“And you’re intimately acquainted with brigands, are you, miss?”

“Well, actually, as a matter of fact, I am – I’ll have you know I am related to several!” she said with spirit. “Very fearsome they are, too! So you see, only the most foolhardy criminal would dare to cross me.”

“I see!” he said with an impressed air, carrying his dishes through to the bustle of the kitchen. “You are full of surprises, miss. I wouldn’t have picked you to come from a family of bloodthirsty villains.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” she said mildly, following him out and waiting near the door to the passageway. “Shall we begin our tour of the house, then, if you can give me your solemn assurance not to pilfer anything?” she said.

“I give you my solemn assurance that if I do pilfer anything, I’ll share half the profits with you,” he promised with a straight face as he joined her at the doorway.

“Deal!” she said, laughing, “although it would be a shocking way to repay Lady Denham’s generosity to my sister and me!”

They left the kitchen and made their way through the dining room toward the main staircase, stopping to pick up a lamp each on the way.

“I confess, I won’t be as knowledgeable a companion as Charlotte to look around with you,” said Alison as they approached the stairway. “Charlotte’s got more of an eye for the architectural side of things. I’m more comfortable with landscapes than buildings, I’m afraid. I’m happy to learn though, if you’d like to point out things of note to me as we go round?”

Mr Stringer expressed his willingness to do so, and they climbed the stairs to begin their exploration of the upper level.

\---

“So you are fond of painting landscapes?” Mr Stringer asked as they entered the library, where long lines of books stretched away into the gloom, each row pristine and hardly touched apart from the incursions Charlotte and Alison had made since their arrival.

“Oh, no; I merely sketch with pencils. My brother is the painter – or, at least, he aspires to be. He has gone to London to try to establish himself as a landscape artist there. Who knows if he will succeed? – but he persuaded our parents to let him try, at least.”

There was silence for a long moment as Mr Stringer gazed abstractedly at the tapestry hanging on the nearby wall. “I was offered an apprenticeship in London myself last year,” he said eventually.

“So I heard,” Alison responded. “But Charlotte said you turned it down. Why did you decide to stay?” she asked curiously.

He paused. “I wanted to help rebuild after the fire.”

“Out of loyalty to Mr Parker?” she asked.

He smiled a little grimly and shook his head. “Out of loyalty to my father’s memory. It’s what he would have wanted.” He paused, then continued bleakly, “He didn’t want me taking on the apprenticeship.”

She digested this for a moment.

“Did your father not want you to pursue architecture?” she asked gently.

Mr Stringer shook his head. “No, miss. He didn’t want me getting ideas above my station.” She detected an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone, and they stood in silence for a few moments.

“They don’t always understand, do they?” she mused softly, almost as if talking to herself.

“What’s that, miss?”

“Well … my parents have always been very supportive of our dreams,” she said. “But my grandparents on my mother’s side were quite the opposite. They were forever imploring us to be practical, and scolding my parents for indulging us in our frivolous pursuits. I think my mother was so supportive partly in rebellion against them, to be honest. They simply did not see the value in anything that did not yield a tangible benefit,” she said, her brow furrowed. “But I think…” she began, then stopped abruptly, uncertainty suddenly writ large upon her face.

“Go on,” urged Mr Stringer.

“Well, I think,” she went on, with more restraint, “that beauty can be an end in itself. It needn’t yield a tangible benefit to be worthwhile. Something beautiful has virtue in its very existence.”

“Indeed it has, miss,” he said, gazing at her.

“I mean – of course we need practical things to survive – but we were not just made for survival. After all – what would the world be without beauty? Without art, or music?”

“Life wouldn’t be worth living without beauty in the world,” he said quietly.

There was a pause, then she smiled at him.

“But as for you, in aspiring to be an architect, you needn’t make that choice – architecture is both! After all, what is architecture, but the marriage of beauty with function?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Aye, miss, I suppose it is, though I wouldn’t have put it so prettily.” Then he asked, gazing at her wonderingly, “Are all your siblings as remarkable as you and Charlotte?”

“Oh!” she blushed, but replied with a mischievous smile, “No indeed, all the others are quite unexceptional,” and they continued into the next room. Their conversation turned to the stated purpose of the tour as they continued their way through the manor, holding their lamps aloft to cast as much light as possible as they walked leisurely through the different rooms. The storm seemed very far away now, somehow, even though they could still hear the wind whistling through the eaves and searching for any cranny through which to sneak inside.

Mr Stringer was eager to make the most of his opportunity to inspect a grand old house like this, even if it was in the dark, and began to speak with animation as they went, pointing out features that caught his eye and explaining them to Alison. As for Alison, she was familiar enough with the subject from discussions in her family to be able to ask intelligent questions, and if her interest in architectural features was perhaps not as great as it might have been, her interest in the one explaining them was more than sufficient to make up for any deficiencies in the subject matter.

After seeing as much of Sanditon House as they were able to, they returned to the drawing room, Mr Stringer keeping up his flow of observations.

“It's all about space, and how you use it. See this here column, miss. It's not actually supporting anything, and along with its pair is here to frame the view out to sea through those windows there. And this, see how the stairway is wide enough for ten people to walk down it arm in arm - it's all done for the impression it gives visitors, when the lady or lord of the manor descends the stairs to grant an audience, like some sort of minor deity. If it were up to me, I’d have put a balcony all the way round past the windows behind us here, so as to make an atrium of sorts, and put an opening into the ceiling to let in more natural light. That, and lightening up the colour scheme – all this black marble is very dour, though I expect it was the height of fashion when it was installed. But there – what do I know, after all?”

“What do you know indeed?” Lady Denham’s voice sounded behind them. They both quickly turned around, Alison feeling inexplicably guilty, as if she had been caught in the very act of stealing they had joked about earlier, and a quick glance at Mr Stringer showed that he, too, had paled at Lady Denham’s tone. Lady Denham advanced toward them, gazing at Mr Stringer critically.

“More than I’ve given you credit for, it would seem,” Lady Denham continued in a tone of surprise, and Alison froze in shock for a moment, then exhaled with relief. “So you are not merely a builder and a foreman, but a budding architect too, eh? And Miss Heywood informs me that you wish to oversee my renovation of Denham Place.” She walked around them as she spoke, eyeing Mr Stringer appraisingly, as if she could determine his worth as an architect from his appearance alone. “Do you really know what you’re doing when it comes to architecture?” she asked suspiciously.

Alison looked at Mr Stringer and could tell from his face that he was nervous, unaccustomed as he must be to speaking with ladies of Lady Denham’s stature. His voice, however, when it came, was confident. “Don’t just take my word for it, my lady. I can show you, if you’re willing to give me a chance,” he said.

She gazed consideringly at him a moment longer, then nodded. “Come with me to my study and I’ll show you the kind of thing I’m thinking of,” she directed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, casting a look of mingled apology and excitement at Alison, who looked back in astonished delight.

“Not that this is an agreement, mind – I have not yet made up my mind to hire you,” Lady Denham continued severely. “You still need to prove yourself worthy. Tomorrow you can bring along the proposal you had prepared and I will see what I think of it.”

She turned away with a rustle of fabric and began to move in the direction of her study, clearly expecting Mr Stringer to follow. He stood there a moment, looking a little stunned, before turning to Alison and saying, “Please excuse me, miss!”

“Go on!” she encouraged him, smiling happily at this stroke of providence. “It will not do to keep her waiting. Thank you for the tour, Mr Stringer – I learned a great deal!”

He lingered a moment longer, looking at her as if hardly daring to believe his good fortune. “Thank _you_ , miss. So did I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you haven’t minded taking a break from Sidney and Charlotte and following Mr Stringer and Alison for a couple of chapters. I love Mr Stringer too much to relegate him to a bit part in my season two; nor am I on board with a plot that just sees him pining after Charlotte again. Mr Stringer deserves better than to merely serve as the third point in a love triangle!


	38. Chapter 38

It was a dark and stormy night. Charlotte sat in Tom and Mary’s sitting room with her ankle tightly bound and propped up on a little stool, listening to the wind howling outside, as Tom paced fretfully to and fro in front of the fire. Mary had urged Charlotte to go to bed and get some rest after the day’s misadventure, but Charlotte had insisted that the best thing for her would be to spend the evening with them, particularly on a night such as this; this way she would have something to take her mind off her injury rather than going to bed and lying awake there, with only the pain in her ankle to keep her company.

The wine had been flowing freely this evening; Tom seemed to be trying to drink his anxiety away, and kept offering more to Charlotte each time he recalled her injury; Sidney, too, seemed inclined to partake more liberally of the drink than usual.

“Tom, dear, do go to bed,” Mary urged her husband once more, as she set her needlework down in her lap. “You were satisfied with the safety of the building site earlier today; Mr Stringer has made sure it is as secure as possible, and even if anything were to happen, there is nothing to be done at present.”

“Yes, you are right, my love,” Tom responded, coming to a halt and sinking down into a chair by the fire, fidgeting with his pocket watch. “There is nothing I can do. I shall go to bed directly. It’s just –” He stopped, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. “I do not know if I could bear another disaster befalling the building work, after … what happened last year. And just when everything is going so well.”

Mary looked at her husband in concern, but it was Sidney who answered, sitting deep in an armchair across the room from Charlotte, angled toward the fire. “There will be no disaster, Tom. It’s just a storm. We have weathered worse than this before, and we will again. Besides –” his lips curved in a smile – “we have insurance this time.”

“But if I could just see how it’s holding up …” Tom stood up again, as if to leave the room, but turned instead to the fire.

“I would not let you go outside in this, even if the building site were flattened,” said Mary sternly. “No building work is worth risking one’s life for.” She set her work down and rose to her feet. “Come, Tom, I insist – you are achieving nothing besides putting us all on edge.” She walked to him and put her hand on his arm, stilling him in his restless course. She looked up at him with a little smile. “Do not be anxious for tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble,” she quoted.

Tom gazed at her for a long moment, before nodding once, finally yielding to her entreaties. “You are right, my dear, as always,” he said, as he tenderly kissed her on the forehead, before bidding them all a good night.

Charlotte listened to the storm raging outside and her thoughts turned to Alison again. She could not summon up any anxiety for the building work; her concern was only for her sister. She wished she had been more urgent in her insistence to Alison to stay. Mary had also been concerned when she first heard of Alison’s departure, but upon hearing that she was going to see Mr Stringer, her brow had cleared. “Ah – then we have nothing to fear. He will make sure she gets home safely: you may be certain of it.”

Mary returned to her seat and had just picked up her embroidery when a servant knocked and entered the room.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” said the servant, bobbing a curtsy, “but it’s Master James – the nanny said to fetch you, says the storm has woken the poor wee fellow up and no one will do for him but his mam.”

“Of course – I shall be there directly,” responded Mary, laying her work down and rising again. She paused at the door. “Charlotte – I shall be back as soon as I can to help you up to your room,” she said, and then Sidney and Charlotte were alone.

They sat a little while in silence, but it seemed to Charlotte the air was charged somehow, the pressure building until she felt she had to say something – anything – to relieve the tension.

“How was your time in London, Mr Parker?” she asked, her voice sounding very loud in her ears.

There was a long pause. “Oh – you know,” he said, in a voice that was ever so slightly slurred. “Dances. Parties.” He paused. “Wedding planning.”

His words dropped like a stone between them, and the silence that followed felt even more strained than before. “Did you see much of Tom in London these last few weeks?” Charlotte asked eventually.

“A fair bit,” he sighed. “He will not let me alone about the wedding plans. Tom is eager for it all to be done – he cannot understand why it is taking so long. He expects me to feel the same way, of course.”

She did not reply immediately, feeling uneasy; it seemed they were venturing into dangerous territory. “I’m sure Tom is right,” she made herself say. “It will be easier once it’s all over and done with.”

He made a sound, somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “I wonder.” The silence stretched out once more, before his voice came again. “Tom was right about one thing, though, the other day,” he said meditatively. “It has been very painful to be separated from my love.”

She cast a swift glance at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the fire.

“Then you shall be looking forward to returning to London again,” she said firmly.

“I would be, if my love awaited me there,” he said, his lips twisting in a bitter smile. She felt as if her breath had suddenly been snatched away.

After several moments she found her voice again and said shakily, “You must not say such things!” She stopped, struggling for words, before continuing softly, “What can it achieve besides causing us both misery?”

He gave a little laugh. “You speak of misery …” he said slowly. “The very sensation of being near you is a kind of sweet agony … and yet I cannot seem to stay away.” His eyes finally turned toward her, strangely bright. She felt heat flood her cheeks as tears rose to her eyes, threatening to fall.

“But you must. You had better stay away,” she replied, fighting back her tears, though it felt as if her heart were breaking within her all over again. “Indeed, I begin to be persuaded that simple friendship between us will be impossible.”

He sat, his face impassive, but she could see in his eyes a boundless pain. She dropped her eyes to her lap and forced herself to continue. “If you truly want what is best for me, the greatest kindness you could do me would be to leave me alone.”

A lengthy silence greeted her words. His voice, when it came, was so soft she had to strain to hear it over the wailing of the wind outside. “Heaven knows I’m doing a poor job of that,” he said. “I confess,” he went on, slowly, “it seems as if it were quite beyond my power to do so.”

A tear spilled over and began to slide down her cheek; she dashed it away angrily as she looked back up at him. “You must find the will,” she said miserably. “We may not have the power to determine who we lo–” she caught herself – “the one who claims our affections, but we are responsible for how we act in light of it.”

He smiled, looking into the fire again. “You are right, of course,” he said softly.

Oh, how was it to be borne? She felt the need to flee, to run to her room – anywhere away from this room and its crushing sorrow. Her urgency was such that she would have risen and attempted the flight on her own, injured ankle or no, but Mary’s head appeared through the doorway just then, as if in answer to prayer. “Are you ready to retire to bed yet, Charlotte?” she asked in her gentle way.

“Yes!” she managed to gasp in response, and Mary immediately came to her side and assisted her to stand, frowning at her in concern. “Is everything alright, my dear?” she asked.

“Just – the pain,” replied Charlotte, truthfully, as the tears stood in her eyes.

“You poor thing,” said Mary sympathetically, and helped her from the room, leaving Sidney sitting still as a statue, gazing into the fire, with a hollow look in his eyes that haunted Charlotte’s dreams that night.

**END OF EPISODE FOUR**


	39. Episode Five

**EPISODE FIVE: The Match**

The storm was over. Sometime in the night it had spent its fury, subsiding into a mournful whisper before evaporating entirely, gone so completely it could almost have been a dream, but for the trail of destruction left behind.

Mr Stringer stepped out into the damp morning air of a cloudless day, donning his hat as he left the grand old manor behind. The wet trees outside showed evidence of the violence of the wind the night before, with broken branches littering the usually immaculate lawns. He nodded in greeting to the gardener, who was beginning to survey the damage, and on seeing how waterlogged the lawn was, decided against taking the shortcut over the hill and took the beach road instead.

The waves foamed as the wind cut in from offshore, a biting cold that was a little too bracing on a morning like this. He pulled his coat closer around himself and stepped down onto the sand, picking his way over the jumble of driftwood that had accumulated in a ragged line along the beach, some of it looking like it had been freshly uprooted. He made his way past the high tide mark onto the smooth sand, watching as the gulls poked around in the debris, looking for something to eat, cawing to one another with their manic cries. The ocean stretched out before him, scrubbed clean by the storm.

Suddenly he narrowed his eyes as he gazed out at the water. He came to a stop; then started walking again, this time out toward the sea.

At some point during the storm the promontory had been washed clean away, and with it the sandbar and the tuft of tussock that used to sit on top like a shaggy mop of hair. All that remained was a jumble of rocks and driftwood sticking out of the sand like the ribs of a felled giant. It was then that he saw the man, standing defiantly in the middle of where the promontory used to jut out into the bay. He was undressed to the waist, and seemed to be wallowing in the foamy fingers of the waves that crashed against the rocks. His arm was raised above his head in a fierce gesture that Mr Stringer initially thought was a wave, but as he hurried toward him, he noticed the man was holding something, something like a large hay fork.

Mr Stringer stopped, then laughed at himself. There in front of him lay an old shipwreck, uncovered by the savagery of the storm, and standing at her bow was the figurehead – a muscular man wielding a trident, emerging from the waves. Poseidon stared at Mr Stringer, and Mr Stringer stared back.

\---

Charlotte woke blearily after a poor night’s sleep, plagued with bad dreams and the throbbing of her ankle, and was late coming out for breakfast. Mary bade her stay in her bed, but Charlotte insisted once again that she would feel better for getting dressed and joining them rather than sitting abed like an invalid.

Mary sat with her at the table, though she had finished her own breakfast, and enquired solicitously after Charlotte’s ankle, expressing sympathy over her tired appearance. Charlotte was glad, in a way, for her sore ankle, as an obvious source of blame for any defects in her appearance, a convenient injury to attribute all her sufferings to. No one else was around, other than the children; Tom had left nearly as soon as he was dressed to check on the condition of the building site, and Sidney was nowhere to be seen.

“Has Sidney gone to check on the building site too?” Charlotte asked as she cut up her egg, aiming for a light tone.

“He’s already left, I’m afraid,” Mary replied, a little apologetically.

“Back to London?” Charlotte asked, looking up swiftly in spite of herself.

“That’s right – he left quite early this morning, before you were up. So abrupt! But then, he’s always been like that – coming and going without so much as a word of warning sometimes.” Mary spoke indulgently, but with a faint trace of exasperation.

Charlotte sat very still. So he was acting on her words, and getting away from her. It ought to please her; instead, all she felt was the loss of him. _It’s for the best,_ she told herself sternly. _He’s doing exactly what you asked him to._ But however much she admonished herself, she could not prevent the heavy weight of disappointment that settled in her stomach. For, despite all her efforts to the contrary, his betrothal still did not seem to make any difference to her feelings toward him: even now she preferred his company to that of any other man of her acquaintance, and the days stretching before her seemed unutterably dull with his absence.

It was for the best – she knew it was. She sighed inwardly. If only she could bring herself to truly accept it.

A sudden, loud bang caused Mary and Charlotte both to jump as they sat at the table; they looked up as Tom strode in, his face alight with excitement where they might have expected a frown.

“The most fabulous thing!” he panted. “You’ll never guess what the storm has uncovered during the night – a shipwreck!” he announced, thus removing any possibility of guesses on their part. “Mary, my dear – you must come and see it! What a sight to behold! Bring the children too! Why, this will be a sure point of interest for the visitors here! Children!” This last word was a peremptory summons as he called out at the door, leaving the room as suddenly as he had entered it.

Mary looked at Charlotte in wonder, who looked back with equal amazement. Perhaps the immediate future, at least, would not be quite so dull as she had imagined.


	40. Chapter 40

A small crowd was beginning to gather at the site of the shipwreck as word quickly spread of its discovery. Mr Stringer watched as children clambered over the rotting timbers of the wreck and dug in the sand around it, seeking to uncover any secrets it might hold. More people were beginning to arrive, flocking down the beach from the town toward him.

“Nice find, James, but I don’t suppose any of these timbers will be of any use as rafters,” came Mr Robinson’s voice from beside him. He had just arrived with Hercules, coming to stand next to Mr Stringer with his arms folded as Hercules bounded up, dancing around him with little whines and licks in his excitement to be reunited with his master. Mr Stringer crouched down to greet his dog. “Steady on, boy,” he said with a grin. “I missed you too.” He picked up the stick Hercules had dropped as he approached and sent it flying away into the waves, Hercules hurtling after it energetically.

“Thanks for looking after the dog for me,” Mr Stringer said to his friend with a nod.

“No problem, mate,” said Mr Robinson. “You owe me one, though – the poor thing howled all night under the bed. We were both expecting you back.”

“So was I,” said Mr Stringer apologetically. “I was obliged to stay overnight there, given the way the storm was carrying on when we arrived.”

“Who was it obliged you – Lady Denham? Or Miss Heywood?” asked Mr Robinson with a raised brow.

Mr Stringer merely shook his head, forgoing a reply in favour of walking to greet Tom as he strode up ahead of his wife and children.

“Boys, please keep off the structure until it has been checked to make sure it is safe!” Tom directed the little scavengers. The boys retreated a few steps, but still hung about, beginning to chase each other instead with pieces of driftwood that roughly resembled swords and muskets.

“What do you think, Mr Stringer?” Tom asked. “Is it safe?”

Mr Stringer looked at Mr Robinson, who shrugged.

“No way to know, sir,” Mr Stringer replied. “It’s been buried under all this sand for a long time and it’s looking quite well rotted. I don’t know if you’d want to chance it.”

Arthur and Diana arrived just then, out of breath and eager to view this new spectacle.

“A very nice discovery, Mr Stringer!” Arthur congratulated him heartily.

“Anyone would have found it; it does rather stick out a bit,” Mr Robinson said, grinning at Mr Stringer.

Arthur gazed at the remains of the ship with fascination. “What does it contain?” he asked and, evidently intent on discovering the answer for himself, stepped out onto what was left of the deck that half protruded from the sand.

“Do be careful, Arthur!” Diana called out nervously, standing well away, and casting sideways glances at Posiedon, as if he might be about to skewer someone with his trident.

Arthur grinned unconcernedly. “She does worry so,” he said. Just then, his foot fell through the rotten timbers of the deck, and he toppled over.

After they had extracted him from the hole, with only a torn trouser leg to show for it, and accomplished the more challenging task of calming Diana down, Mr Robinson left to get some tools to make the wreck safer while Tom poked at the deck with his cane.

“Seems solid enough to me,” said Tom, and stepping carefully onto it, to his sister’s considerable alarm, he began to edge tentatively toward the hole. He peered in.

Mr Stringer was about to return to the building site when he heard Tom exclaim. “By Jove!”

He turned to see Tom gaping in astonishment, frozen in place as he stared into the hole created by Arthur’s foot. Arthur struggled to stand up to have a look at what had so excited his brother as Tom knelt on the sand, reached into the hole and pulled out a green mask, its lips stretched in a savage rictus.

\---

Some time later, Charlotte was considerably astonished to be rejoined in Trafalgar House not just by the Parker family, bursting back in with excited cries of shipwreck and treasure, but by Arthur, Diana, Mr Stringer, Mr Robinson and, most notably, a great assortment of outlandish items that were carefully laid out in the parlour. There were stacks of white porcelain; a set of ornate silver cutlery; marble statues with limbs missing; a large oriental-looking bronze cauldron that looked as if it belonged in some pagan temple; jewel-encrusted scabbards with matching hilts, their swords long since rusted away; and the mask, made of some kind of green, slightly opaque stone.

It was a most impressive haul, and after the initial wave of amazement died down, the gathering turned into an impromptu council to decide what was to be done with it all.

“We’d better notify the authorities,” Mr Stringer said firmly. “They’ll want to know about this find.”

Tom looked up from where he was kneeling, attempting to piece together a large, rather graceful urn that sported a pair of cranes wading in an estuary, currently in several pieces on a card table. “Oh, I suppose we should,” he said reluctantly.

“What are we going to say though?” asked Mr Robinson from where he stood, leaning against the doorway, his hat in his hands. “Oh, excuse me gov’ner, me and the lads found a few plates and flowerpots in this ‘ere shipwreck. Oh, what’s that you say? Survivors? Well we don’t rightly know sir, see the ship was probably there since good Queen Bess, so whatever poor soul survived the wreck won’t be around to claim it …”

“Alright, Fred,” interrupted Mr Stringer. “All I’m saying is we don’t know who it belongs to, so it must be considered the property of the crown. I expect once we’ve notified the authorities, they’ll be only too happy to take it off our hands – so I hope you won’t get too attached to the loot.” He looked sideways at Arthur who was holding the jade mask up to his face, already trying to convince Mary to allow it to stay in the house.

“Pity,” Mr Robinson said with a shrug. “I could do with some new cups and saucers.”

“But these all have cracks in them,” Diana said.

“They’re still better than his current crockery,” Mr Stringer said with a straight face.

Arthur turned around suddenly, bumping the table that Tom was putting the vase back together on. It rattled ominously. “Could it not be counted as salvage under maritime law, or something?” he said brightly. His eyes widened. “Unless of course it was a French Privateer that had run aground, in which case all of this would be stolen property!”

Tom frowned. “Mr Stringer is right, I’m afraid. If there’s any chance we might get the King to visit Sanditon – as I’m hoping there is – we’d best make sure we are conducting ourselves blamelessly in any matters pertaining to the crown.” He sighed. “As much as it pains me to admit it, we may need to acquire the services of a lawyer.”

Charlotte held up one of the pieces of china in her hands; it seemed to glow from the light streaming in from the window. “It’s beautiful. They’re all so beautiful,” she said as she traced her finger along the intricate lines of deep blue that were woven across the surface of the cup. She picked up another piece, this one another vase, with a vivid blue dragon that seemed to dance across the face of it. “It belongs in a museum,” she said.

Tom fixed Charlotte with a keen look.

“They should be on display,” Charlotte continued, becoming more animated. “It would be a great thing for Sanditon! Visitors might like to see them if they have a spare moment – or on a rainy day, perhaps.”

Tom stood abruptly, bumping the card table, causing the vase pieces to fall apart with a clatter. He began to pace excitedly across the room. “A capital idea!” he enthused. “Nothing better than to put Sanditon on the map as a place of …” he trailed off.

“Antiquity?” suggested Diana. Tom shook his head, his brow creased in thought.

“Culture?” suggested Mary.

“Ah!” Tom nodded his approval. “Nothing better than to put Sanditon down as a place of culture. First the sauna, now our very own museum! Our guests can visit on rainy days – few as those are, of course.”

Mr Robinson coughed. “Of course.”

Tom stopped in the middle of the room, his finger thrust into the air as if he were an orator mid-speech. He dropped his hand. “Best not to get ahead of ourselves. The first step should be to contact the magistrate and gain the necessary permissions to set something up.”

“Perhaps we could display them anyway, in the interim,” Mary suggested. “Otherwise they will simply clutter up our house. Surely there could be no harm in setting them up somewhere, even if it’s only temporary.”

“What about one of the recently completed town houses?” Charlotte said eagerly. “It would be a good way to get people inside, to see the artefacts and the house as well – a kind of free advertisement, if you will.”

Tom turned to Charlotte. “Happy thought!” he declared, much struck. “Yes – happy thought indeed! Once again you have proven your worth, Charlotte! However did we get on without you, my dear?”

“Oh, and I could put some advertisements about it in my paper!” exclaimed Arthur enthusiastically. “And we could put a story in there about the discovery of the shipwreck, too!”

Tom clapped his hands together. “Marvellous! Stupendous! Yes to the story, and –” He paused, as a thought occurred to him: “And yes to the advertisements – as soon as we have the display approved.” He nodded sharply. “What a stroke of good fortune that storm turned out to be!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing credits to my husband, again!


	41. Chapter 41

So Tom gained a new project to devote his time and energy to, even as Charlotte was plunged into a period of forced inactivity to allow her ankle to heal. She was successfully transported back to Lady Denham’s later that day and gladly reunited with Alison, but did not go further than the grounds of Sanditon House for a week or more. Much as she chafed at the relative immobility recommended by Dr Fuchs, she knew from tending to her siblings’ numerous strains and sprains that the surest way to reduce the period of recovery was to comply with the temporary restrictions on her movement, and so she bore it as best she could.

The timing of this imprisonment could hardly have been worse, though, in light of her last conversation with Sidney: it gave her more time than ever to dwell on the words they had exchanged, his patent misery, the desolation in his eyes as she fled from his presence. If ever she could have wished for the ability to escape outside and seek distraction, now was the time. She was not sleeping well, and was finding herself more inclined to irritability and depression than was usual for her. She hoped her mood would improve once her ankle was healed and she was able to go out once again. Not that she sat around idly, of course; she made sure to keep herself busy with reading books, playing cards and board games with Lady Denham, writing letters home to her family, and attempting some moderately successful repairs on a few of their clothing items. All her activity, however, was but a brief, momentary diversion from the image her mind kept coming back to: Sidney’s face, etched with misery and pain, gazing into a burning fire.

\---

Charlotte was not left all alone in Sanditon House for the period of her recovery, of course; Alison kept her company for much of the time, and Charlotte had visitors to see how she was recovering, though they were not always the visitors she would have chosen.

Sir Melbourne paid her a morning call the day after she returned to Sanditon House, and in his efforts to be especially agreeable was as disagreeable as ever. Lady Denham gave the impression she would have been happy to promote Sir Melbourne’s growing intimacy with Charlotte – or his attempts at it, at least – but Alison stuck steadfastly to Charlotte’s side and deftly resisted all attempts to dislodge her until Miss Parker was announced, whose arrival Charlotte had never been so grateful for. Shortly after Diana’s entry, Sir Melbourne recalled another engagement that awaited him and politely took his leave.

Diana observed his departure with faint regret, before turning back to Charlotte to continue describing the latest affliction from which she was suffering. Diana shook her head. “You know what they say – sea air is touted as a remedy for all sorts of ills – but I declare that sometimes it seems to produce quite the opposite effect, and revives old maladies one had thought to be quite cured!” She paused, and frowned sympathetically as if remembering the purpose of her visit. “What say you, Miss Heywood? Your ankle must be exceedingly painful, you poor dear! You are looking quite drawn, you know, and I’ve always thought of you as the very picture of health! Or is there something else that ails you?”

Charlotte smiled a little self-consciously. “No indeed – it is just my ankle. I have not been sleeping so well as I am used to from the pain of it.”

Diana clucked in concern. “Well, my dear, if you need any draughts to help you with your sleep, do not hesitate to ask. I have just begun a new treatment, most exotic, and it is proving quite remarkable: it is composed of nightshade, keese wing, Octorok eyeball, the tail of the red lizalfos and Hylian shrooms – and it has already helped tremendously with my own insomnia, you know. I’m sure Dr Fuchs would be most happy to supply you with some too!”

Charlotte promised solemnly to see the good doctor if her poor sleep continued, knowing full well that no tonic the doctor might provide would be capable of curing her particular affliction.

**\---**

One person she needn’t hide the true cause of her pain from was Alison. A few days after the night of the storm, as they sat together on a couch in one of Lady Denham’s sitting rooms, Alison drew out of her a brief summary of the conversation she had shared with Sidney: that she had asked him to stay away and that he had agreed to it as the wisest course of action.

Alison was silent for a little while. “You did just as you ought,” she said eventually, in a sober voice, her eyes fixed on the piece of embroidery in her lap. Then Alison looked up, and Charlotte could see her disconsolate expression. “Oh, this must be so hard for you, Charlotte! I knew you weren’t alright, no matter what you claimed. I’m so sorry: it is my fault you’re here. It was a mistake for you to come back to Sanditon!”

“What? Oh, no – no indeed, Alison. No one is at fault,” Charlotte exclaimed, anxious to reassure her sister.

“But if I had not urged you to accept Lady Denham’s invitation, you would not have been here when Sidney came back,” said Alison dismally.

“How could either of us have known he would return early from his travels?” Charlotte countered earnestly. “It is just bad luck, that’s all, Alison! I will not permit you to castigate yourself over it. Besides, just think of all the adventures we would have missed out on if we had stayed in Willingden!”

“What is the value of all that if our presence here is the cause of more unhappiness for you?” said Alison, and Charlotte could see tears glistening in her eyes.

Charlotte was moved, putting her arm around her sister’s shoulder and drawing her close. “Don’t cry, Alison – you’ll start me off, too! Now, I do not want to hear any more nonsense about you being responsible for this situation. I do not blame you and you must not blame yourself! He is gone now, and I expect I shall not see much more of him in future, since we have reached this understanding. Perhaps this is just what I needed – a chance to see him again and prepare to relate to him as a married man.” Her voice trembled only slightly as she said those last words, though she was obliged to look away hurriedly. If this was indeed an opportunity for her to learn that, she was failing miserably. Each new encounter with him only reinforced her feelings for him, rather than providing any form of closure, in spite of all of the words she had said to rebuff him.

Alison regarded her dolefully, but said no more. No doubt she believed Charlotte as little as Charlotte believed herself.


	42. Chapter 42

As Charlotte’s ankle healed and her mobility increased, she was able to leave the house again and begin her usual walks, albeit more slowly and carefully. Still her mood did not improve, despite her greater freedom; she was not able to shake the melancholy that had plagued her during her recovery. It did not help that all her friends seemed to be busy or distracted with one thing or another.

She called on Mary, but Alicia had fallen ill with chickenpox and Jenny and Henry had just caught it too, and Mary would not countenance Charlotte’s offer of assistance lest she also catch it – particularly when Charlotte had only just finished her own period of convalescence.

Mr Stringer, usually such an excellent listener, also seemed to have something on his mind. On one of her visits into town, Mr Stringer offered to take her to see the treasures from the shipwreck, newly displayed in one of the apartments just built. These were already proving popular, by all accounts, and as they passed the Crown, Charlotte saw that the figurehead of the wreck had been installed outside; the town was embracing the gift it had been sent from the seas.

As Charlotte and Mr Stringer walked along the street toward the exhibition house, she congratulated him on his recent appointment to oversee the renovations for Lady Denham – hearing this news had been a bright spot for Charlotte during the grey days she had just been enduring. He accepted her congratulations gladly, but seemed quieter than usual, so she filled the time with an account of a visit she had paid to Denham Place before her accident, and the features she had noticed that might be of use to him in his plans. He gazed ahead, walking silently beside her as she talked _._

“How did Tom receive the news that you would be in charge of this new project?” she continued, turning and looking up at him.

He gave a start, and turned to her with an expression of dismay on his face. “I do beg your pardon, miss!” he said, with deep contrition. “I must have been somewhere else just now. What did you say?”

“It’s quite alright!” she assured him kindly, and repeated her question.

“Ah!” replied Mr Stringer with a little grimace. “Well, he was not best pleased, what with the damage from the storm to be fixed, and the sauna needing to be finished as soon as possible. He did seem to be less set against it when I told him I’d taken the liberty of informing Lady Denham that he should be the one to let her know if I could do it or not, seeing as I’m in his employ at present.”

“That was very clever of you!” Charlotte said, smiling appreciatively.

“I may have also mentioned that if I were him, I’d be wanting to keep my principle investor happy,” Mr Stringer continued, casting a mischievous glance her way.

“Mr Stringer – I would not have thought it of you!” she replied with a laugh.

“Well, I confess it was your sister’s idea,” Mr Stringer said, with a strange tone in his voice she could not quite decipher. Charlotte was surprised to hear it – Alison had not mentioned anything about it to her – but was pleased at this indication of a growing friendship between her sister and Mr Stringer. Then she frowned as she recalled something Mr Stringer had mentioned. “But was the damage from the storm that significant? I thought Alison told me it was not as severe as Tom had feared?”

“No, it was just minor repairs that were needed in the end: some windows were cracked, some of the scaffolding fell down and we needed to replace some of the roof tiles. Nothing to worry about.”

They arrived at the showroom and Mr Stringer led her in to see the objects on display, carefully cleaned and laid out; she thought she could detect Alison’s hand at work here in the artful way the items had been arranged.

“How elegant it all looks!” she exclaimed as she walked around the room, examining each item anew. “And has the magistrate replied to say whether we can keep them all on display?”

“I’m afraid Mr Parker’s finding the process fairly challenging,” Mr Stringer replied. “The Receiver of Wreck is the one who needs to grant us permission, but it sounds as if Mr Parker’s finding him particularly difficult to get hold of, and what he has heard doesn’t sound promising. That’s bureaucracy for you, I suppose.”

He showed her out again and they were just parting ways when he said, “Please do forgive me, miss, for my lapse in attention earlier. It was very rude of me.”

“Not at all, Mr Stringer,” she responded immediately. “There is nothing to apologise for. You are in charge of two projects now, and answerable to two employers – you must have a great deal on your mind. I do not wonder you should be a little distracted!”

He hesitated, then nodded and said, “Aye, miss, that’s it.”

If his manner seemed a little evasive, she did not press him for details, nor did he offer any, and she thought no more about it.

Mr Stringer was not the only one to seem preoccupied; even Alison was rather inattentive these days, which was unusual for her; she was sitting more quietly at mealtimes and even when the two sisters were alone together, she seemed slightly remote, as if part of her mind was elsewhere. Not that she was around very much now that Charlotte was mobile again; she seemed to be constantly making the trip into town these days, volunteering for errands or discovering a need for some urgent purchase of one kind or another. Yet any time Charlotte cautiously tried to enquire if there was anything Alison wanted to talk about, her sister gently but firmly guided the conversation to a different topic. Their intimacy seemed to have lost some of its closeness, and Charlotte sometimes felt quite alone.

So it was that when a familiar face suddenly appeared one day, Charlotte was overjoyed.


	43. Chapter 43

It was the day before the annual cricket match was due to take place, and Charlotte and Alison were enjoying the warm weather as they sat under the trees down by the river with Tom and Mary’s family, watching the gentlemen sharpen their skills in preparation for the match. Charlotte could not help remembering the dramatic events of that day the previous year, and was glad to be spared any expectation of a repetition of those adventures. That was the kind of excitement she could well do without.

Tom seemed a little grim as he sent the ball flying through the air before running the short distance to the opposing stumps and back again, the children running in eager pursuit of the ball, all of them fully recovered now. Sidney had arrived back in Sanditon that morning but was absent from the practice session, although he was also named to play in the game the next day. Upon hearing that the Misses Heywood would be joining the Parker family that day, he had apparently remembered a commitment to Mr Crowe, who had accompanied him back to Sanditon, and had headed out before the sisters arrived.

So he was honouring Charlotte’s wishes, and staying away.

“Poor Tom,” fretted Diana, as they watched him swing wildly and miss the next ball by a mile. “After all his hard work these past months, rebuilding after the fire and renewing interest in Sanditon, it’s such a disappointment that the King has decided to holiday in Brighton instead.” They had discovered this unhappy news from Sidney that day; Tom had been quite downcast ever since learning of the King’s decision.

“There will always be future years,” Charlotte offered.

“Future years may not do us any good,” said Diana forebodingly. “If we cannot cement Sanditon’s reputation soon, I fear it may be too late for us. I believe Tom quite had his heart set on being able to get the King to visit this summer.”

Mary came to join them just then, bringing with her Diana’s parasol and, in so doing, diverting Diana’s mind from its gloomy channels as she accepted the item thankfully. Mary seated herself, then leaned across to the two sisters and said quietly, with a mysterious smile, “There’s a surprise waiting for you back at the house.”

Charlotte looked at Alison in confusion and saw an equally mystified expression on her sister’s face. They left the cricket players with their little audience and made their way back to Trafalgar House, entering it cautiously, the house feeling strangely quiet without any of the Parker family there. No clue immediately greeted them as to what the surprise might be; then they came into the sitting room to find a familiar figure reclining on one of the sofas, lounging there as comfortably as if he owned the place. Charlotte gave a cry of delight.

“Johnny!” Alison exclaimed in blank astonishment, as he rose to his feet and regarded them with a laughing expression.

“Charlie! Allie!” Their brother embraced each of them in turn. “I am come!” he pronounced merrily. “Did you miss me?”

“But what are you doing here?” Charlotte asked in bewilderment. “We had no idea you were coming!”

“I asked them to keep it a secret,” he replied with a wink and his boyish grin. “Wanted to give you the best surprise you could ask for!”

Charlotte laughed as Alison rolled her eyes. “I see you haven’t changed,” Alison remarked drily.

“Never!” he replied. “Don’t worry – I’m still your favourite brother!”

“But you _have_ changed – I could swear you’re even taller than you were before you left home. And your hair is longer!” exclaimed Charlotte.

“How do you like it?” he asked, tossing his dark locks around. “This style is all the rage in London!”

They stared at it doubtfully. He laughed. “Well, to be perfectly frank, I’ve just been too lazy to have it cut.”

Alison peered at him narrowly. “And … have you attempted to grow some sideburns? What _are_ those things on the side of your face?”

“Alison!” exclaimed Charlotte reproachfully, even as she stifled a laugh.

“Upon my word, Allie, if this is how you treat your favourite brother, I’d hate to see how you treat the others,” he said in an injured tone.

“Well, since your premise is false, you needn’t worry about the rest,” Alison retorted.

“But Johnny, what are you doing here?” Charlotte pressed, returning to the topic of his unexpected arrival.

“I came here from London with Sidney and Francis,” he replied casually.

Charlotte stood rooted to the spot. “Sidney?” she repeated incredulously.

He glanced at her. “Yes, why? Come now – no need to look so surprised! Did you have no idea we were acquainted?”

“Well – n-no!” she stuttered. “How came you to be so?”

“Oh, we ran into each other soon after he came back from abroad. We recognised each other’s names, of course – not that you ever said much about the middle brother, Charlie – and, well, I suppose you could say we hit it off! So here we are.”

“Do you spend much time together?” Charlotte asked, still finding it hard to believe her brother and Sidney might be friends.

“Yes, a fair bit,” he replied offhandedly. “Francis is always glad of the company, and Sidney too is more than happy to pass the time with us – doesn’t exactly relish spending time with his betrothed, from what I’ve been told,” he said drolly. Alison sent Charlotte a swift glance, knowing this to be a dangerous topic, while Charlotte stared at John, her mouth set in a rigid line.

“Now, Charlie, no need to glare at me like that,” he said, misinterpreting her expression. “I’ve not met his fiancée yet myself, but you can be sure I’ll be perfectly civil when I do.”

“Are you here for just a brief visit, or do you intend to stay a while?” Alison asked, moving the conversation back onto safer ground.

“Oh, Sidney’s got to head back soon, but Tom and Mary have kindly offered to put me up for as long as I want. I don’t know what Francis intends to do; I expect he doesn’t know yet either. I thought I might stay a while, enjoy the sea air, reconnect with my lovely sisters – you know.”

“And what about our father’s business? And your attempts to form connections as a painter?” Alison asked.

“Our father’s business – that’s all taken care of. As for making connections –” he laughed humourlessly. “Well, that’s easier said than done, it would seem. But come now, there’s plenty of time to catch up – no need to do it all at once. I hear there’s a cricket match on tomorrow? What fun! If the weather’s anything like today, it’ll be a cracker of a day!”


	44. Chapter 44

The next day did indeed dawn clear and fine, a bright morning giving way to a warm afternoon, with just enough of a fresh breeze to prevent the heat from being uncomfortable.

Lady Denham had woken with a little tickle in her throat and decided to stay home from the cricket match, harbouring a superstitious notion that it was her attendance at the game the year before that had brought on her spell of bad health – as she referred to the illness that had taken her to death’s door itself. Charlotte and Alison had attached themselves to Tom and Mary’s party instead and headed to the beach early with them to help with the preparations for the match.

Soon after they arrived, Sidney appeared with Mr Crowe, and Charlotte found herself searching Sidney’s face anxiously for some indication of how he fared. This was the first time she had seen him since the night of the storm, and she wondered if he had been as unhappy as she. She was not able to glean much; his expression was guarded and he took care to avoid her, his only acknowledgement of her presence a fleeting glance every now and then. Perhaps, then, if a friendship between them was impossible, as she herself had said, this unsmiling estrangement was what would replace it.

\---

As the day wore on, the beach slowly filled with people as players and spectators assembled and began to mingle in advance of the game.

“There’s nothing like a day at the beach for a true taste of summer!” Arthur declared happily, as some of the gentlemen stood together near one of the tents of refreshment. “The sun overhead, the ocean waves lapping at the shore, the crunch of the sand between our toes … at least,” he amended, “it would be crunching between our toes, if we weren’t all wearing shoes.”

Mr Crowe looked at him as if he were mad. “Please tell me you’re joking,” he said flatly.

“No – why? Come, sir, it’s idyllic! Surely even you cannot find anything disagreeable here on such a day as this?” Arthur asked, his good humour unimpaired.

“I can, and I do,” said Mr Crowe sourly. “I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating – and it gets everywhere. And that sun is positively merciless.”

“Just because you’re feeling a little the worse for wear after your revelries last night,” Sidney said with an amused glance at his friend.

Mr Crowe grimaced but did not deny his friend’s charge. “Mr Grey had the right idea, giving his apologies for today – I wish I’d had the same foresight.”

Arthur gave a shout of laughter, causing Mr Crowe to wince in pain. “Come now, I’m sure he didn’t intentionally fall off his horse just to avoid the match today! Leaving us a player short, no less! Indeed, I’m not sure what we would have done if Mr Heywood had not accompanied you here from London!”

“Well, I’m very happy to be of service!” declared John with his ready smile. “There’s nothing I love better than a good game of cricket – particularly when I’m on the winning side!”

This remark caught the attention of some of the workers standing nearby, who turned toward the gentlemen with an air of friendly challenge _._

“Then it’s a shame you won’t be playing on our side!” called Mr Robinson. “You’ll wish you had been by the time we’re finished with you!”

“Indeed? And who won it last year, do you remember?” taunted one of the other gentlemen from beside Arthur.

“Why, that would’ve been Miss Heywood,” replied Mr Stringer, who was standing next to Mr Robinson, with a grin in Charlotte’s direction just as she came up on her way to the tent nearby.

“And what a match it was!” Arthur exclaimed with glee, rubbing his hands together. “Such a thrilling game! Do join us, Miss Heywood – that’s right, over here by me – we were just saying how providential it was that your brother is able to play today! We must make this as much a tradition as the cricket game itself – the Heywoods step in to save the day! What fun! You don’t fancy another go this year, Miss Heywood?”

“There’s no chance of that happening, I’m afraid,” she replied with an apologetic smile, coming to a halt by Arthur and taking care to avoid Sidney’s gaze, as Sir Melbourne also wandered up to join the group. “Not with Dr Fuchs in the audience, checking to make sure I don’t aggravate my ankle.”

“Oh, what a shame!” Arthur exclaimed regretfully. “You were our secret weapon!” He gave her a big wink, then laughed. “So secret even we didn’t know about you!”

“Well, one thing’s for sure – I won’t go easy on this year’s Heywood,” said Mr Stringer, with a little warning nod at John.

“You said you didn’t go easy on me last year!” protested Charlotte, laughing.

Sir Melbourne tilted his head, a look of amazement on his face. “Am I hearing this aright? Am I correct in presuming that the charming Miss Heywood here played in the cricket match last year?”

Mr Stringer answered him. “Aye, Miss Heywood stepped in on the gentlemen’s side last year – and won the game for them too.”

“Well! I am all astonishment!” Sir Melbourne exclaimed. “I had no idea Miss Heywood had sporting prowess to add to her long list of other accomplishments! You are a constant source of wonder, my dear.”

“Well, this year’s Heywood is much more gentlemanly!” Charlotte said quickly, eager to shift the attention away from herself.

“But nowhere near as handsome!” Sir Melbourne replied archly.

There was a brief, awkward silence, before John pronounced in crestfallen accents, “And I was always used to think I was twice as handsome as all my sisters! What a blow!”

**\---**

Charlotte returned to her seat with a plate of food, where she was joined soon afterward by John coming up and dropping into Alison’s vacant seat, readily accepting the food Charlotte offered him.

“What’s this about your ankle?” he asked without preamble, and she gave him a brief account of her accident and recovery as they watched some of the men warming up in preparation for the match. John’s eyes alighted on the tall figure of Sir Melbourne, catching the ball and sending it back with a flourish, and his brow furrowed. “Now look here, Charlie – who’s this Sir Melbourne character? He seemed on quite friendly terms with you – at least, he was dashed familiar with you just before!”

“Well, it all depends on who you ask,” Charlotte replied. “Lady Denham thinks him a fine, rich gentleman with many diverting tales to tell; others say he is a dangerous rake.”

“And who do you say that he is?”

“Oh – only one of the most disagreeable men I have ever had the misfortune to encounter! He loves to make much of himself, and to be made much of by others. To me he just seems so …” She searched for the right word. “ _False._ Not to mention he is forever harassing one or another of the ladies here – oh and look, now he’s got poor Alison!”

Sir Melbourne had indeed abandoned the field of play and now stood in conversation with their sister, who had been walking past.

“Sounds like a bore,” said John contemptuously _._ “Perhaps he’s used to being fawned over by the ladies. I can understand that, of course – it must be hard not to let that kind of adulation go to your head after a while. Well, if he insults you, just let me know. I’d be quite happy to call him out,” he said cheerfully, leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Thank you, Johnny – I’ll be sure to,” she said drily.

They sat in silence for a little while, as Charlotte searched for a natural way to introduce the topic of his friendship with Sidney. Having failed to think of one, she asked as nonchalantly as possible, “So how did your acquaintance with Sidney Parker come about?”

He opened his eyes a little and shot her a curious glance, but answered blithely enough, “Oh, you know … at one of the clubs around London. You can meet all sorts of people there. He seemed desirous of a little company, and you know me – I’m always happy to oblige my fellow man as far as I can. Our meeting happened at rather a good time, actually,” he went on reflectively.

“Really? How so?” asked Charlotte.

“Oh!” He looked as if he regretted what he had just said. “Well …” he hesitated, looking a little shifty. Then he leaned forward, and said in a low voice, “Now Charlie, no need to tell Allie about this – you know how she can be sometimes – but I will confess that I got into a spot of trouble while I was in London, and Sidney was good enough to help me out.”

Her eyebrows drew together in concern. It sounded as if Alison’s fears about John had had more merit than Charlotte had realised. “What kind of trouble, Johnny?”

He waved it off. “Oh, it was nothing serious! Just some gentlemen’s business – nothing you need to worry about. Besides, it all turned out alright in the end! But I am grateful to Sidney, to be sure! He’s a right ‘un!”

But she was not prepared to let him off so easily. “Come, tell me, Johnny – what was the sort of trouble you got into? Did he pay some debts of yours, or lend you some money? Or was it something else?”

“Now, now, don’t get yourself into a pucker, Charlie! It’s all taken care of now. There’s no need to trouble yourself over it! _I’m_ not!” He stood up, clearly determined to escape her line of questioning one way or another. “Well, it looks like they’re beginning to get ready for the game now – I’d better go and see if I’m needed.” He bid her a cheerful farewell and strolled off, leaving Charlotte convinced of the need to discover the details of Sidney’s intervention – and, if her brother was unwilling to divulge anything further, it would have to be from Sidney himself.


	45. Chapter 45

Somehow Sir Melbourne managed to make Alison feel cornered even in the middle of a wide open beach, pinning her there with his smoothly flowing speech and stymieing her feeble attempts at escape. He was asking all sorts of questions, enquiring about their favourite pastimes and their upcoming engagements, and she feared the purpose to which these enquiries might tend. She caught sight of Mr Stringer over Sir Melbourne’s shoulder, walking in their direction, and cast him a look of desperate entreaty. Mr Stringer heeded her silent plea and came up to them as she focused on keeping her expression neutral, not allowing her relief and gratitude to show on her face.

Mr Stringer looked at Sir Melbourne apologetically. “Pardon me for interrupting, sir, but Miss Charlotte Heywood sent me to urgently request her sister’s attendance.”

Alison assumed a concerned expression. “Oh, I shall go directly!” She excused herself politely and fell into step beside Mr Stringer, as they set off toward where Charlotte was sitting near Mary and Diana.

“Thank you, Mr Stringer!” she breathed fervently as they walked away, glancing furtively over her shoulder as if Sir Melbourne might come after them to reclaim her. “You have rescued me!”

“I take it you don’t like Sir Melbourne,” he observed.

“Oh no!” she said fiercely, keeping her voice low. “How could anyone?”

“There’s plenty of women that would be pleased to have a rich, handsome lord making up to them,” he reflected.

“No doubt, though I fear his wealth and title may be his only virtues, such as they are,” she said darkly.

“Aye, but those things are worth much in this world,” Mr Stringer observed in a colourless voice.

She snorted.

“Come now – do such things not weigh with you?” he asked.

“Oh no, such material advantages are worth a great deal, to be sure,” she said, “but they could never compare to what truly matters: good character, sound judgment … and a sense of humour, of course.”

“As well as extravagance, perhaps,” he said with a raised brow.

She glanced at him. “Oh – you refer to Sir Melbourne’s contribution to the town, of course – indeed, Mr Parker has told us he is the wealthiest and the most liberal spender of any of the visitors here. Lady Denham and Mr Parker both have impressed upon us most strongly the importance of not offending him. But it is hard to be civil when one finds him so objectionable. He looks at you like you’re a piece of meat.” She shivered.

“I must confess, miss, that he’s never looked at me that way,” Mr Stringer said apologetically.

She gave a start, glancing at him in surprise, then burst out laughing. “Oh! Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“I’m sorry to hear it! I daresay you are not his style then.”

“I daresay. Perhaps if I wore a dress, that might catch his eye,” he mused.

She laughed again. “Indeed! And everyone else’s! You would become the talk of the town!”

“Just what I’ve always wanted,” he replied with a grin, just as they came up to Charlotte. “To be the latest sensation – me in my dress and my brigand’s hat.”

Charlotte, catching only the last part of this conversation, looked up at them in confusion.

“Good day, Miss Heywood,” he grinned, nodding to Charlotte.  
“Miss Alison Heywood.” He bowed to Alison. “I’m here if you ever need me to help you escape again,” he said, and Alison smiled at him gratefully.

Charlotte noted the way Mr Stringer’s eyes lingered on her sister as he took his leave of them, and smiled widely at Alison as she sat down in the chair beside her. “You and Mr Stringer were looking quite cosy just then!”

“So would you be, if he had just saved you from having to endure Sir Melbourne’s disagreeable conversation!” Alison replied instantly.

“Oh! Yes!” Charlotte grimaced, and the two sisters settled back to await the game.


	46. Chapter 46

They did not have long to wait; the match began soon, with the gentlemen batting first.

The action started off slowly enough as the men settled into the swing of things, before each side found their stride and play began in earnest. Charlotte looked on as Sidney attacked the ball with powerful strokes and the score began to climb higher; he was in fine form today.

Before too long, Tom was bowled – a clean, clear dismissal – and it was John’s turn to bat. He strolled out carelessly onto the pitch, grinning as he waved at the crowd. Then he took up his position opposite Sidney and his air of insouciance fell away, his face becoming intent and purposeful as he focused all his energies on the task at hand, swinging the bat with a skill that bore witness to the countless hours spent playing cricket with his family. Mr Stringer, true to his word, accorded John no special treatment, sending the ball toward the stumps with a dangerous speed, but John proved more than equal to the challenge. Time and again he sent the ball flying through the air, the crowd voicing their appreciation. The young man quickly became the star of the gentlemen’s side, all eyes on him to see where he would send the ball next – all eyes save those of his sisters, that is, whose attention was each claimed by a different player.

It seemed John’s partnership with Sidney would be unstoppable. Then Mr Stringer proved his own worth; John’s next ball made to sail by Mr Stringer, who launched himself into the air, arm outstretched, to pluck the ball from the air before landing in a roll on the sand in a gymnastic feat that brought Alison and half the spectators to their feet. “What a catch!” Alison uttered, awestruck, as Charlotte exclaimed, “Poor Johnny!”

But John didn’t seem to mind; he appeared as impressed as everyone else by the catch, going up to congratulate his opponent with a hearty clap on the shoulder before lifting his bat and striding off the pitch as the crowd applauded his efforts.

Soon he made his way over to his sisters, settling down beside them to watch the rest of the innings as Sir Melbourne strutted out onto the pitch to take John’s place in front of the wicket.

“Here we go,” muttered Alison. “This should be quite a show.”

Alas, it was a short-lived performance; Sir Melbourne had scored only a few runs before Mr Stringer picked the ball off the ground and sent it smashing into the wickets as Sir Melbourne ran up, in another impressive display of skill from the foreman.

“Oh, well done, Mr Stringer,” exclaimed John. “He’s one to watch! What a shot. But what’s this?” He leaned forward in his seat as Sir Melbourne approached the umpire and began to argue with him. “No chance! What does he think he’s doing? Even I could see he was out from all the way over here – no doubt about it! That’s right – the umpire’s sent him packing. Now what is he doing? Having words with Sidney – ha! No doubt he blames him for the call to run. Well, it wasn’t Sidney’s fault – if Sir Melbourne there had run at a decent speed there would have been no trouble, instead of tripping down the pitch as if he’s worried the wind might mess up his hair.”

Now, finally, Sir Melbourne walked back to the gentlemen’s bench, a sour look on his face, the swagger that had marked his entry onto the playing field noticeably absent.

“The more I see of this Sir Melbourne, the less I like him,” John said in disgust. “It’s just a game, after all – no need to be so unsportsmanlike!”

“But it’s not just a game to Sir Melbourne,” stated Charlotte with certainty. “He is not a man to be outdone. He must be first in everything.”

“If that’s so, he should aim his hostility at me, not Sidney or the umpire – I’m the one who outshone him today,” John said with blithe confidence.

Alison gave him a withering look. “I don’t think you’re the kind of man to inspire much of a feeling of rivalry in another.”

Charlotte bit back a smile, but said a little reproachfully, “Alison, must you always be so harsh to poor Johnny?”

Both her siblings turned to look at her, then John replied, “What – Allie be less harsh? Upon my word, Charlie, nothing would give me graver concern than if Allie should start to be nice to me!”

\---

Sir Melbourne’s abrupt departure marked the beginning of the end for the gentlemen’s side; several more wickets fell until, finally, Sidney was the last man standing and it was the workers’ turn to bat.

After the brief tea break, John went out to take his place on the playing field again as the second innings began. Sir Melbourne was permitted to bowl first, evidently seeking to restore his reputation as a fine sportsman after his disappointing batting performance. Here he fared more successfully, managing to claim a couple of wickets as the game progressed, though he was unable to prevent the steady flow of runs from Mr Stringer as the workers set about chasing the gentlemen’s score.

After a while John came on as bowler; he instantly put the batsmen on the defensive with his aggressive deliveries, causing excited murmurs to break out among the spectators again. Then he bowled a slow ball, quite unexpectedly; Mr Stringer misjudged it, bringing his bat forward too soon, and could only watch helplessly as the ball snuck past and neatly tapped the bails off the stumps. The crowd cheered; Arthur exclaimed, “Oh, well done, Mr Heywood!” as the gentlemen ran up to congratulate John; even Alison was obliged to admit it had been a very nice play. Mr Stringer walked off with a good grace and the workers watched their star player retire. But they were not done for yet; the batters rallied and doggedly continued the chase even as Sidney, the new bowler, picked them off one by one.

The tension mounted as the scores came closer and closer, finally drawing even with one wicket to spare: the workers needed one more run to win. Sidney released the ball; Mr Robinson swung wildly and hit it with a smack; the ball flew like a bullet to hit Arthur squarely in the middle. He toppled backward with a grunt, and there was a moment’s silence as everyone froze. Then his arm rose in the air, the ball clutched within it, as he gave a feeble cry of triumph which was immediately joined by a wave of cheering from the onlookers and the gentlemen’s side.

“It’s a tie!” exclaimed Charlotte, half rising out of her seat in excitement.

“Is that it, then? Is that the game?” asked Alison, leaning forward intently. “Does it end in a draw?”

“This has only ever happened once before,” replied Mary from her seat nearby. “It means each side will have one more over, to decide the winner. What a thrilling game this is turning out to be!”

“Oh, indeed – I am in agonies!” squeaked Diana, though her tone was one of unadulterated excitement. “I do not know how much more of this I can take! And just after I’ve been categorically instructed to avoid any causes of stress!”

Mary was right: two additional overs were to be played, with the gentlemen batting first again. John and Sidney were chosen from the gentlemen’s side to repeat their successful partnership and they did not disappoint, scoring an impressive ten runs between them, before it was the workers’ turn to bat. Mr Stringer and Mr Robinson took up their positions in front of the wickets while Sir Melbourne fidgeted with the ball in preparation to bowl.

“Tom should have chosen Johnny to bowl, not Sir Melbourne, if he wants to win the game,” Alison said in disgust. “He’s the only one who could match Mr Stringer.”

Charlotte, who had privately been thinking it ought to have been Sidney appointed to bowl, merely said, “But he doesn’t just want to win the game, Alison. He wants to keep Sir Melbourne happy.”

Alison sighed in acknowledgement. “And I’m sure there’s nothing that would make Sir Melbourne happier than to win the game for the gentlemen. Anything to add to his consequence.”

A hush fell over the assembled crowd as the final over began. One run; two runs. With every ball the tension grew. Mr Stringer and Mr Robinson kept their cool; then Mr Stringer went on the offensive and scored a boundary.

Alison clapped her hands, her eyes alight with excitement. “They’re so close!” she said, as the batsmen scored another two runs. “It all comes down to the last ball!”

Sir Melbourne scowled, his concentration such that he absent-mindedly raked his hand through his coiffed hair. He took the run up; the ball flew from his hand and Mr Stringer’s bat met it with a crack, sending it soaring high in the air toward the crowd of spectators, the light breeze catching it as it flew and shifting it slightly to descend just where the two sisters sat. Alison stood up and caught it neatly in her hand as the crowd erupted.

“The workers have it!” exclaimed Mary, as the rest of the workers ran onto the pitch to congratulate the two batsmen. “What a game!”

The field of play now became a field of celebration as the workers revelled in their victory, buoyed by the cheering from the crowd, before shaking hands with each of their opponents. To see the cheerfulness with which Arthur congratulated the workers one could be forgiven for thinking his side had won; one look at Sir Melbourne’s scowl, however, would have dispelled that notion. The closeness of the score did not seem to alleviate that gentleman’s considerable displeasure at the loss.

As the players began to make their way over toward the spectators to receive their congratulations or commiserations, Mr Stringer walked up to retrieve the ball from where it had landed.

“That was a very nice shot, Mr Stringer,” Alison said, sending the ball to greet him with a practised flick of her wrist as she came to meet him.

“That was a very nice catch, Miss Heywood,” he responded with a grin. “You’d be an asset to the side with skills like that, I can see.”

“Well, I’m here if you ever need me,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “although you seem to have managed pretty well on your own.”

“It was a close run thing! Your brother’s one to watch. And I thought you said the rest of your siblings were quite unexceptional?” He raised his brows at her, a playful smile on his lips. “Seems to me that cricket skill runs in the family.”

Alison smiled back, but was prevented from responding by John coming up then. Mr Stringer nodded at John, and the two men commended one another’s performances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cricket match itself: I won't blame you if you skimmed it! I wrote it from my experience watching normal cricket (on grass), then read it over and wasn't sure if it works perfectly for beach cricket. But I couldn't be bothered changing it because - let's be honest - nobody's here for the game itself.


	47. Chapter 47

As Mr Stringer took his leave of them, John turned to Alison and said, “Well, I am utterly downcast. What a result! Can you believe it? We were so close – so close! only to be denied it. Oh – the cruelty!” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Come – help me forget my disappointment. I’ve heard about an old shipwreck that’s been discovered recently; walk down there with me so I can have a look at it and take my mind off today’s sorry business!”

After some hesitation, and a reassurance from Mary that there would still be tasks to help with upon their return, Alison agreed to the walk. John called Charlotte over to join them, and so the three siblings set off toward the shipwreck, as the rest of the spectators and players continued to mingle or began to drift away. It was still quite light, though the wind was beginning to pick up now, blowing in off the sea and sending their hair and clothes dancing in the breeze.

“I wonder how many men would envy me my position right now?” he mused aloud as they strolled down the beach, arm in arm, John in the middle with a sister on each side.

“None, I imagine!” replied Charlotte instantly, and Alison said crossly, “Don’t talk such nonsense, Johnny!”

As if on cue, Sir Melbourne called out to them from a little distance, his good humour apparently restored sufficiently to say in a jesting tone, “Mr Heywood! You rogue – how does it feel to monopolise the attention of two of the prettiest girls in Sanditon?”

“Why do you ask me?” John called back with a careless smile. “I don’t know!” This earned him a slap from Alison as Charlotte gave a laugh, cut short as Sidney came toward them in the opposite direction. John nodded to Sidney, who nodded back and cast a rather searching look at the three of them as he passed by.

“I say, Charlie, you were asking earlier about my acquaintance with Sidney,” John said, as if a thought had just occurred to him, “but I gather the two of _you_ were on closer terms than I’d realised!”

She looked up at him sharply, fearful that her secret was revealed, but he was gazing ahead innocently enough. “Just from a few things he’s said here and there,” he continued obliviously. “Don’t worry, he only has good things to say about you, Charlie,” he said, then with an impish grin in her direction: “So maybe you are not so well acquainted after all, since he clearly does not know you very well.”

“He is well aware of my faults, I assure you,” said Charlotte, with feeling.

“Oh, is that right?” he said in surprise. “Have you had a few confrontations, then?”

“You could say that,” she said shortly. Discussing the nature of her own relationship with Sidney was the last thing she wanted to do with her brother.

“No doubt he offered you some advice for correcting your faults?” he said.

“Why, is that what he’s done on encountering all _your_ manifold flaws?” asked Alison acerbically.

“Well, yes, actually,” he replied.

Alison was clearly not prepared for such an answer; she paused a few moments before responding. “I would not have expected you to appreciate that kind of intervention?”

“Nor would I,” he said thoughtfully. “I suppose it all comes down to how it’s done and who’s the one doing it. He treats me as an equal, you see. He doesn’t patronise me or go easy on me just because I’m younger.” There was a brief silence.

“Or because you’re a woman,” said Charlotte quietly, almost to herself.

John blinked. “Uh … n-no. Can’t say he’s ever treated me differently because of that.”

Alison looked at John. “But our uncle did, while you were staying with him these past few months? Treat you differently because of your youth, that is?”

John made a face. “You know how our uncle is – always prating on about how to do things, the proper way to make a living, how to get ahead, like he’s some authority on it all – and then he goes and bows and scrapes before anyone higher up than him in an effort to advance his own interests. As if I should follow his lead. Say what you like about Sidney, but he don’t play that game. No, sir; it’s clear he doesn’t suffer fools gladly.”

There was a brief pause; then Alison said, “And yet he suffers you?”

John merely grinned in response.

“Well, I’m glad you have someone like Sidney to be a good example to you,” Alison continued drily. “Heaven knows you need one.”

“Ha! I never said he was a good example!” said John, seeming to find this a great joke. “I highly doubt he would say so either!” He sobered quickly as he continued, “I rather fancy he considers his own example one to be avoided, rather than emulated, as a matter of fact. Do you know, when he was in one of his melancholic moods recently, he adjured me to marry for love if it is at all within my power to do so.” He paused and went on consideringly, “I have received the distinct impression his engagement is not a happy one – on his side, at least.”

Charlotte looked away uncomfortably; once again they were venturing into dangerous territory, and once again Alison steered them to safer waters. “What did you say to his advice?” Alison asked.

He laughed. “I said that if it was within my power, I would avoid _that_ dread disease entirely! It seems a dashed inconvenient business. I’d much rather have some adventures and travel the world first before being obliged to settle down.”

“Have you considered that you might be able to travel and have adventures with the woman you marry?” Charlotte asked with a touch of defiance.

“She’d have to be wealthy for that to happen,” he said with a sigh, “since I haven’t a feather to fly with.”

“Money. That’s what it always seems to come down to,” said Charlotte rather grimly.

“That’s the way of the world!” said John with a shrug, and at the mention of this more worldly subject his thoughts were diverted to the agreeable prospect of whether there might still be some treasure hidden in the shipwreck.

**\---**

The next day, Alison surprised Charlotte by asking her, when they were alone, “Did Johnny tell you about the trouble he got into in London?”

Charlotte gave a start and then nodded. “He made mention of it – but he asked me not to tell you! How did you hear of it?”

Alison gave a snort. “How do you think? Johnny himself, of course! He never could keep a rein on his tongue.” She sighed and knit her brows together, looking at Charlotte intently. “He told you of the role Sidney Parker played?”

“Not in any detail,” replied Charlotte. “He clearly did not consider it a matter fit for his sister’s ears. What did you learn from him?”

Alison hesitated, then said slowly, “I gather from what Johnny said – and from what he didn’t say – that he was in quite a bad way when he met Sidney. Johnny made reference to certain … acquaintances of his who were introducing him to all sorts of disreputable activities, though he did not put it anything like that, of course. But the very fact he admitted as much as he did – why, Charlotte, I do not think I am overstating it when I say I think he was on a course that may have been the ruin of him.”

“Surely not!” exclaimed Charlotte.

“Well, Sidney presumably has a better idea of the truth of it,” said Alison. “It is clear that Sidney has taken him under his wing, as it were, and equally clear that Johnny looks up to him and holds him in high esteem. But it seems most unusual that a gentleman of fashion should concern himself so much with the welfare of a strange young man who must be his junior by ten years or so! I wonder what can have made him take such a special interest in Johnny?”

Now, more than ever, Charlotte was determined to get to the truth of the matter, and she resolved to speak to Sidney at the earliest opportunity. She would bridge the divide between them: she must know what role Sidney had played in assisting her brother.


	48. Chapter 48

Charlotte did not have to wait long for her chance to speak with Sidney. She had offered to show John the different locations near the town that he might like to paint, and two days after the cricket match she took him to the site of a beautiful waterfall set among lush greenery, the coolness of the water relieving the heavy warmth of the day. As they walked up the path to where the water cascaded down the rocks, they came upon Sidney by the creek, standing quite still as he contemplated the scene before him. Charlotte felt the familiar wave of nervousness and excitement pass through her as she saw him, and had to remind herself sternly that her only object in seeking to talk to him was to learn what he had done for her brother.

“Sidney – what are you doing here?” John called in delight, and Sidney’s head jerked round, his face closing up as he beheld them. “I am on the hunt for some good scenes to paint and Charlotte was good enough to show me this place. What an enchanting prospect!”

“I’m afraid I was just leaving, actually,” Sidney responded.

“Oh, there’s no need!” John replied instantly. “Why – you could keep Charlotte company while I set up. Right, Charlie?”

Sidney’s eyes flicked across to Charlotte, refusal written plainly on his face as he opened his mouth to reply, but Charlotte spoke first, her heart beating a little faster than normal. “Indeed, Mr Parker, I would welcome the company … if you are able to delay your departure a little, that is.”

He could not disguise his surprise, but inclined his head politely and said, “As you wish.”

After a slight hesitation, they turned and began to stroll slowly along the path by the creek, leaving John to set up his easel. It was such a beautiful day, in such a beautiful setting, with the water flowing gently past, the birds chirping lazily in the trees and the dappled sunlight falling across the path ahead – if circumstances were different, this could have been a private outing for the two of them, a chance to simply walk together and share whatever thoughts lay on their hearts. But the memory of their last conversation lingered in the air, and Charlotte could feel the awkwardness that constrained them both now as they walked side by side. She resolutely put aside the memory of that stormy night and focused her mind on the matter at hand, determined not to let this opportunity go to waste; she waited just until they had moved out of John’s hearing before turning toward Sidney and giving voice to what had been weighing heavily on her mind the last few days. “Mr Parker, I’ve been hoping for a chance to speak to you – I wanted to ask you about some assistance you lent my brother quite recently?”

He did not respond immediately; he seemed to be considering carefully how to reply. “John mentioned this to you?”

“Yes, and I was hoping to discover more about it,” she replied firmly.

He hesitated again before answering. “John has told you of the nature of his predicament?”

“Well, that is what I was hoping you could tell me,” she confessed. “Johnny made mention of some trouble that you helped him with, but he seemed to suggest it was of no great consequence.”

“Ah,” he said, with a little smile. “Your brother is right – my role has been very minor.”

She fixed her eyes anxiously on his face. “So he was not in any danger? Alison was convinced you had saved him from a ruinous acquaintance of some sort.”

He paused. “I would not say that. It is true he had fallen in with some friends who were … highly unsuitable. It was desirable that he be introduced to different circles as soon as possible.”

“So you provided him with that introduction?”

He smiled at her. “That’s right.”

Charlotte regarded him narrowly. “And if he had not been removed from those friends?” she asked.

Once again he appeared to debate how to reply. He gave her a measuring glance. “If he had not, I fear your sister’s prediction may have been proved right.”

She exhaled. “Ruined.”

He grimaced. “There are many pitfalls awaiting a young man newly arrived in London society – particularly one seeking an introduction to the creative circles like those John was pursuing. Plenty of people all too willing to welcome a young man, bring him into their fold and introduce him to their way of life. Genial, friendly – and completely without scruple.”

She frowned at this, looking up at Sidney, who was looking ahead with a grim expression. “Well, but –” She broke off, then continued hesitantly, “How can you be so sure their company was such that he needed to be rescued from it?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a little smile on his face. “You think, perhaps, I may have judged them too harshly? That my naturally cynical disposition may have prejudiced me against them unfairly?”

She smiled wryly, acknowledging the justice of this charge, but responded: “And you would no doubt consider my hesitation to condemn them to be naïve and foolish?”

It was his turn to smile ruefully. “Touché.”

“No indeed, Mr Parker,” she continued, “I have a great regard for your judgment. I have merely decided that it is wise to gain as many facts as possible before drawing conclusions. After all, it can be a very dangerous thing to make assumptions – would you not agree?”

He chuckled. “Very wise, Miss Heywood. I cannot think what might have led to such maturity _._ ” He smiled at her, and she smiled back; then, abruptly, they both looked away, as if the danger of even a shared smile were too great to be entertained. They walked on in silence for a short distance, before Sidney continued soberly, “As for how I can be so sure …” He sighed. “One need not be intentionally malicious to bring about another’s downfall, Miss Heywood. In this case, the society he was seeking was perhaps especially dangerous, because it did not have the appearance of danger. Such ‘friends’ as he had welcome you with open arms, introduce you to their habits and then desert you the instant you run into difficulties.” He paused, and she wondered suddenly if he spoke from personal experience of such society. Then he added, “But you needn’t take my word for it – Mr Crowe was the one who warned me of this particular set of people.”

“Oh!” She absorbed this for a few moments, this last statement more effective than all the rest at impressing upon her the gravity of the situation. If Mr Crowe had seen fit to issue a warning, John’s position must have been dire indeed, and her mind painted for her various alarming scenarios that may have awaited John if he had been left to his own devices in London. She turned to him and said earnestly, “Well, we are heavily in your debt, then, Mr Parker! To take the trouble and time to concern yourself with the affairs of a young man who was a stranger to you …” She stopped, looking away as she searched for the words to say, but got no further.

“It was no trouble – you owe me nothing,” he said with finality. He continued with some difficulty, “I know that I have relinquished any right I might have had to play any part in your affairs, Miss Heywood, but you must allow me to do what I can for other members of your family, as I have opportunity. To know that I am doing you good through your family is enough for me.” He added quietly, so quietly she could hardly hear it, “It has to be enough.”

She felt her heart catch in her throat and cast a swift glance at him, but he had turned his face away. They walked on in silence for a short distance, the only interruption a loud, throaty warble from a bird nearby, before Sidney turned back to her and said in a lighter tone, “Besides, he reminds me a little of myself, when I was younger.”

Charlotte looked at him doubtfully, thinking of John’s devil-may-care attitude, his ready laugh, his tendency to shirk all responsibility where possible.

“Only a little,” he said with a slight smile, seeing her expression. “That sense of invincibility, his optimism, his recklessness – I remember a time when those things were true of me too.” His eyes darkened. “I would not have him go down the same path that I took, if I can help it.” There was a pause; then Sidney continued, “I’m sorry I could not be more specific, Miss Heywood. I promised John to keep his affairs confidential. I fear I may have already said too much. And … if I may,” he continued, with a touch of diffidence, “if I were you, I would not press him further on his time in London. I think there are details of his time there that he would like to forget. The best thing for him now, I would say, is for him to be allowed to start afresh.”

She frowned. “I understand,” she said reluctantly. “Thank you for sharing what you did.”

They came to a stop and stood a little apart, neither looking at the other, before Charlotte said with an attempt at a light tone, “Well, I suppose we should be getting back now.”

“I suppose,” Sidney agreed quietly, still not looking at her; yet he did not move immediately, the two of them continuing to stand there in the cool shade as the moments ticked by. Then, as if with an effort of will, he slowly turned his feet back in the direction they had come, and Charlotte fell into step beside him again.

They walked in silence for a time, before Charlotte attempted a new topic of conversation. “And what are your plans for the next few days, Mr Parker?” she asked.

“I will be leaving for London tomorrow, or the next day,” he replied tonelessly.

“Oh.” She felt the force of this like a blow. “I see. When do you expect to return?”

He paused. “I don’t know if I shall … before the wedding.”

Another stroke of pain. She blinked and looked away. They continued on in silence, yet walking slowly; as if neither had words that could be spoken, but still neither could bear to part just yet. All too soon, however, they were nearly back to where John was sitting, and their farewell could be delayed no longer. They came once more to a stop. Charlotte squared her shoulders and looked up at him steadily. At least they would have a proper parting this time. “Farewell then, Mr Parker,” she said, holding her voice carefully even.

“Farewell … Miss Heywood.”

They stood motionless, gazing at one another for a long moment. Then he bowed, stiffly, formally. She walked back to her brother as he walked away from her. And as she went, she repeated the same mantra over and over in her mind: it was for the best.

**END OF EPISODE FIVE**


	49. Episode Six

**EPISODE SIX: The Unexpected Visitor**

“Influenza!” Tom Parker hurried into the house, his eyes alight with fervour. “Influenza, my dear!” he cried again, triumphantly. “What a stroke of luck!”

Mary turned to him in confusion from where she sat with Charlotte, who had just called in for a quick morning visit. “Tom? What do you mean, my dear?”

“Brighton!” he exclaimed, as if this explained everything. “Ha! I couldn’t have planned it better myself! Such perfect timing!” He rubbed his hands together with glee.

His wife stared at him in bewilderment while Charlotte asked with an amused smile, “What is it, Mr Parker?”

“What do you think?” he replied, practically vibrating with excitement. “Brighton has been stricken with influenza! The place is overrun! Awash with it! It is a disease-stricken wasteland! And where do you think the King has decided to holiday instead?” He paused dramatically, before throwing his arms wide and proclaiming the obvious answer: “Sanditon!”

“Tom!” Mary exclaimed, exchanging a look of amazement with Charlotte. “What a stroke of good fortune for Sanditon! But how awful for the people in Brighton!” She frowned.

“Yes, dreadful,” Tom agreed in a dismissive tone. “But their loss is our gain! Sidney has once again demonstrated his killer instincts and seized the opportunity. Ha! I don’t know how he managed it, but somehow he persuaded the King to come here instead. Yes - Sidney has outdone himself once more. He is a true Parker brother.” He nodded with satisfaction, evidently also counting himself among the true Parker brothers. Then he abruptly turned to Mary and Charlotte. “Now – the King is planning to come in two weeks’ time and stay for several days; we have much to do! I know I can count on you both to assist in whatever way is necessary before then!”

“Indeed you can, Mr Parker!” Charlotte assured him. “We will make sure the King has an unforgettable time here!”

“Very good, Charlotte, very good! Ah, this will be the making of Sanditon!” he exulted, gazing into the distance. “That we should be so favoured! The retinue will stay with Lady Denham, of course; as for entertainment, there is the second concert Senora Fiore has agreed to give, then we have the regatta, the midsummer ball, and the sauna to show him, as well as the shipwreck artefacts and maybe the blowhole if he’s interested … But come – there is not a moment to lose! I must be off to set everything in motion. I shall be back shortly, Mary. So much to do and so little time!”

So saying, he exited the house again to embark on preparations for the royal visit.

These tidings sparked a general flurry of excitement and preparation throughout the town, each person aware of the distinction such a visit conferred upon their town and the importance of creating a favourable impression. Business owners set about cleaning their shops; the workmen under Mr Stringer hurried to make sure the apartment facades were complete, as well as the latest interiors; and a small crew was organised to rejuvenate the public areas of the town. Lady Denham’s household suddenly became a hive of activity as the servants prepared to receive this exalted guest. In the space of a day, it seemed wherever Charlotte or Alison went the royal visit was all anyone was talking about.

Within a few days, Tom had posted off to London to liaise with the King’s officials in person, leaving Mary in charge of affairs while he was gone.

“I won’t be long, my dear,” he said, kissing her cheek as he prepared to climb into the carriage. “These government officials can be most troublesome to deal with from a distance – best to sort things out face to face.”

Mary proved herself well able to manage in his absence, ably assisted as she was by Charlotte. Perhaps this was due to the number of messages her husband sent – who, though he was absent in body, more than made up for it with the number of directives he sent through. Given the number of contradictions and hasty corrections these messages contained, however, Charlotte rather thought it likely that Mary was managing well in spite of the messages, rather than because of them.

Lady Denham was fully cognisant of the value in having the most preeminent man in England to stay with her – for hers was the only residence suitable for housing such an august personage – but this did not stop her complaining at length about the inconvenience of having her household turned upside down. Alison, who seemed to have developed some kind of understanding with Lady Denham in spite of their inauspicious beginning, assisted Lady Denham with the preparations at Sanditon House, while Charlotte helped Mary with all the things that needed to be done in readiness for the King’s forays into the town during his stay.

\---

Charlotte was going to Trafalgar House every day now to see how she could help. Tom was proving just as diligent in his communications to Mr Stringer as he was to his wife, if not more so, and so it was that Charlotte found herself delivering the third message to Mr Stringer in as many days. Today she found him standing still for once, instead of directing his men or inspecting some element of the building work.

Before he left for London, Sidney had suggested an art gallery be joined to the display of items from the shipwreck – an opportunity for local artists to display their talent and, at the same time, a way to showcase the beauty of the scenery near Sanditon and lend more weight to Sanditon’s claim to be a place of culture. Tom had thought this a capital idea and it had quickly been set up, with a few pieces donated to start the collection.

Here it was that Charlotte found Mr Stringer, gazing thoughtfully at one of the artworks that adorned the walls, an idyllic pastoral scene hanging between two other bucolic landscapes. She delivered the message, which he received politely but distractedly, and turned to leave, sensing that he was preoccupied.

“Your family’s got a lot of talent, hasn’t it, miss?” Mr Stringer said suddenly.

She turned back. “Are you thinking of my brother?” she asked, moving closer to see if the painting Mr Stringer was looking at was one of Johnny’s. She knew he was working eagerly on several different scenes, with the aim of exhibiting some here. But no – this was an artist unfamiliar to her.

He hesitated. “Oh, that’s right, he’s a painter, isn’t he? But your sister also draws, I know.”

“Has she mentioned it to you?” Charlotte was surprised; Alison did not talk much of this pursuit of hers.

“Yes, and she was showing me some of her sketches the other day – she’s got a rare gift!” Mr Stringer exclaimed.

Charlotte was much struck by this. “She showed you some of her sketches? Upon my word, you are highly favoured, Mr Stringer! She is usually very private with her work. She hardly shows it to anyone – even to those in her own family!”

“Is that right, miss?” Mr Stringer looked at her, a smile spreading across his face. “I am honoured!” He looked back at the painting on the wall, and his brows drew together in a frown. “It does seem a shame, though – keeping all that talent hidden.” He continued hesitantly, “I thought … that is, I had been thinking she might like to exhibit some of her work in the art gallery here, alongside some of Mr Heywood’s paintings, perhaps, if they’re putting a focus on local artists.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” exclaimed Charlotte. “It would be a very fine thing for her to display some of her drawings. If only she could be convinced to put her work forward for consideration! I cannot imagine she would even contemplate displaying it before so many pairs of eyes. But I can suggest it to her, if you would like.”

“Oh!” he replied hastily. “No need for that, miss – I thought I might mention it to her myself.”

Charlotte looked at him, one brow raised. “Well, in that case, Mr Stringer, I wish you every success! Although I confess I do not like your chances of convincing her.”

“Ah well, there’s no harm in trying, is there?” he said reflectively, after a pause.

“None at all,” she said with a smile.


	50. Chapter 50

Sidney entered the crowded ballroom, scanning the assembled faces for that of his fiancée. She had instructed him to meet her here tonight rather than arriving together, due to the number of engagements she had during the day. He spotted her at a distance, surrounded by a little crowd of friends and admirers, as usual. She had already observed him, and after a little time made her way over to him.

“Is Tom not able to join us tonight?” Eliza asked with a concerned expression.

“No, he’s feeling a little poorly,” Sidney replied. “He attributes it to the stress brought about from organising the King’s visit.”

“Oh dear, what a shame,” Eliza said sympathetically. Then, in quite a bright tone: “Lady Worcester! How lovely to see you tonight.”

Sidney turned in surprise; Lady Worcester was indeed approaching them now, smiling pleasantly as she greeted them both. Sidney could not suppress a feeling of unease. They had seen her numerous times since her visit to Sanditon the previous year, but never had they interacted much beyond a perfunctory exchange of greetings. He did not forget her special intimacy with Charlotte, and distrusted the little gleam in her eyes that looked back at him now.

“Mr Parker – I’m so looking forward to returning to Sanditon soon. Such a charming resort; I’m sure his majesty will find it so too.”

“Thank you, Lady Worcester. My brother Tom is working very hard to ensure the King’s visit will be a happy one,” Sidney replied with a brief smile.

“And I expect you will both be there when he visits?” Lady Worcester asked.

Eliza answered for them. “Oh yes, we wouldn’t miss it! Why, it will be the most exciting thing to happen in Sanditon since – well, since the town was founded, I should imagine!” She laughed.

“I’m most intrigued to see this shipwreck I’ve heard so much about,” said Lady Worcester. “It sounds fascinating! But I must own that one of my chief pleasures in visiting Sanditon is being able to renew my acquaintance with Miss Heywood. I confess I find her company more enjoyable than most of the town ladies put together!”

“Miss Heywood?” repeated Eliza sharply. “But I would not have thought her home village was on the way to Sanditon? You would not pay her a special visit each time you travel there, surely?”

“Oh, but she’s not in her home village,” replied Lady Worcester carelessly. “She has been back in Sanditon again since the start of the season. Isn’t that right, Mr Parker?” Her eyes turned toward him innocently, seeming to seek only verification of her words. He nodded curtly in confirmation.

Lady Worcester caught sight of someone over Sidney’s shoulder and grimaced comically at them both. “Ah – please excuse me; I see I am needed urgently.”

Sidney could feel the displeasure radiating off Eliza as she turned to him, smiling at him brightly in the way that always boded ill. He found he could not bring himself to care.

“I wasn’t aware that girl was back,” she remarked, her airy tone at odds with her dangerously glittering eyes. “How did she contrive to return to Sanditon? She did not invite herself to stay with dear Tom and Mary again, did she?”

“I understand Lady Denham invited her to stay,” he said shortly.

“Why did you not mention it before?”

“I did not think her presence of any consequence to you,” Sidney responded. “I was not aware you harboured any particular fondness for her.”

“Oh! – no,” she replied, “She is far too countrified for me. But I did wonder if _you_ might have had a particular fondness for her – at one point.” She looked up at him coquettishly.

If she thought to discompose him, she was to be disappointed. He replied, with perfect calm, “I do not wonder you should have thought so. She is a very fine young woman.”

He either did not see or chose to ignore the expression that greeted these words. It would have made plain to him that however slight Mrs Campion’s suspicions had been until now, his remark had just magnified them tenfold.

\---

The preparations for the King’s visit, which had started so well, now seemed to be encountering difficulty after difficulty. First there were several scattered cases of illness among the workers and servants throughout Sanditon. Then the guests of a wedding attended by seemingly half the working population of Sanditon came down with a violent case of food poisoning, stretching the already overworked servants still thinner. Perhaps due to the depleted numbers, perhaps simply unfortunately timed, there had also been some minor injuries among the workers on the building site, incapacitating several men for short periods. Mr Stringer seemed to walk about with a perpetual frown now as he strove to ensure the building site was in a fit state in time for the King’s arrival.

Yet worse was to come. Charlotte could see that Mary was looking forward to Tom’s return; he was expected back any day now and each time a door opened Mary looked up hopefully, as if he might suddenly walk in. The two of them were sitting at the dining table in the Parker residence, where Charlotte had insisted they pause for a brief rest, when a note was delivered – hastily written, judging by the scrawl on the front. Mary scanned the contents and her face paled. “Oh dear – poor Tom!” she exclaimed, looking up at Charlotte in dismay. “Would you believe it!” she breathed. “He has contracted influenza!”

Charlotte gazed back at her in blank astonishment.

“He says he is to remain in London until he is quite recovered, so there will be absolutely no risk of him passing it on, lest the same fate befall Sanditon as befell Brighton …” Mary continued. “Oh, of all the ill-timed, perverse freaks of fate …” She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands, resting her elbows on the table. “What are we to do now?”

Charlotte reached out and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Oh Mary, what a blow!” she sympathised. “Poor Tom! I hope he may recover soon. I’m glad to hear he plans to rest and wait until he is better.” They sat there a little while in silence, Charlotte sitting with her hand on Mary’s shoulder, who sat quite still in her chair. Then Charlotte said gently, “Do not lose heart, Mary – we can do it, I’m sure of it! Alison and I are here to help you, and we can make Tom proud even if he cannot be here to witness it.”

Mary finally took her hands away, smiling wearily at Charlotte. “You are too good, Charlotte. I do not know how I would manage without you.” She sat up straighter. “And you are right, of course – we will do it. There is no other option, after all.” She looked back down at the note, and a weight seemed to fall off her shoulders. “Oh! And we are not to be alone, in any case – Tom says Sidney will be here directly in his place. What a relief! Truly – Sidney might be unpredictable and quite terrible at communication at times – but he is always there when you really need him.”

And so Charlotte discovered she had not, after all, seen the last of Sidney Parker just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I thought I didn't like causing my characters pain ... so why did it give me sooo much joy to strike Tom down with the flu? 😂


	51. Chapter 51

Sidney arrived the next day, at such an early hour he must have left London very early indeed. He came fully prepared to lend whatever assistance he could in advance of the King’s arrival, but did not seem to share Mary’s faith in his ability to take Tom’s place if his illness should extend to the King’s visit itself.

“I’m no sycophant, like those the King is no doubt accustomed to dealing with,” said Sidney, his lip curling slightly, as he leaned against the mantelpiece in the Parker sitting room. “I fear the King will find in me a poor host.”

“But Mrs Campion will be here by then,” Arthur pointed out, sitting in an armchair close to the fire. “She will be able to help you.” If there was an implicit suggestion in his statement that she would be well able to play the role of sycophant, nobody commented on it.

As Sidney briefly explained to them, Mrs Campion had desired to accompany him to lend her own aid in the preparations, but Lady Worcester had already secured her attendance at several engagements in the coming week, and had obtained a promise from her that she would make one of Lady Worcester’s own select party when they arrived in Sanditon shortly before the King himself. Sidney did not relay the vehemence with which Eliza had expressed her vexation at being unable to accompany him, nor his suspicion as to the particular cause of her vexation, now that she knew of a certain other visitor in Sanditon.

Charlotte did not stay long at Trafalgar House after Sidney’s arrival; after all, there was so much to do – that was a reasonable cause for her departure. As she walked away from the house, however, she heard Sidney say her name and turned to find him standing just outside, looking after her.

“Miss Heywood – I understand you will be assisting with the arrangements for the King’s visit?”

“That’s right,” she replied, with what felt like a very stiff, unnatural smile.

He gave one of his half smiles in response, regarding her with his head tilted to one side. “Good – I will be glad of it.”

And just like that, with a few words and a little smile, he had breached her defences once again – such as they were. He went back inside as she stood there a moment longer, feeling almost as if she might laugh at the futility of it all. Was there even any point in attempting to move on from him? Or should she simply resign herself to a perpetually lovelorn existence?

Then she turned and began to walk away, and as she went her brows drew together and she said in a voice of fierce resolve, “I _shall_ conquer this – I _shall_!”

\---

That night, Sidney sat alone in Tom’s study, bent over the desk, frowning intently as he scrawled more numbers on the piece of paper in front of him. Multiple other sheets lay scattered over the desk, filled with figures and sums, disturbing the order only recently restored by Charlotte. Numbers whirled in his brain as he calculated the projected returns from the investments he had noted down. A cigar lay smoking in the ashtray, a half empty bottle of brandy to one side, the candles steadily burning down. If Tom could have seen his brother now, he would have been unable to account for any of it: what need for all this work, these painstaking calculations, when Mrs Campion’s vast fortune was assured?

Sidney rubbed his face and leaned back wearily. It was still too small – much too small. Despite all his efforts since his return – and even before then – there remained a shortfall he still had no idea how to make up. £80,000 seemed nearly as unattainable now as it had in the days after last year’s disaster. He sighed and gazed broodingly into the fire. All that he wanted seemed too far out of his grasp.

And yet … perhaps this visit by the King would hold the key. He felt a glimmer of hope. If the royal visit could sufficiently raise Sanditon’s reputation and appeal, perhaps in time they could build up sufficient funds …

Time. That precious commodity, fast running out. The King’s visit might well turn out to be the making of Sanditon – but would it prove to be too late for Sidney?

He glanced at the candles and suddenly realised how advanced the hour was. He must go to bed; he would achieve nothing further tonight. There was only so much he could do. He must turn his focus to the matter at hand: ensuring the King’s visit was successful. As for what came afterward … who could say what would happen?


	52. Chapter 52

Perhaps it was Sidney’s reassuring presence and his calm, steady manner of determining where his assistance was needed most and then offering it there; perhaps it was coincidental that all the troubles that had been plaguing them seemed to improve around the time of his return to Sanditon. Whatever the cause, Charlotte found herself growing more confident that they would, in fact, be able to pull off a successful royal visit after all. The town’s workforce was nearly back to full strength again, the weather was fine and clear and the town’s population was beginning to swell in anticipation of the King’s stay. It seemed as if the worst was behind them. There remained but one hurdle to overcome before the King’s arrival: a small party of royal security officials and advisors was to assess the town a few days before the King himself arrived.

Charlotte found to her surprise that she and Sidney were able to work well together as the royal visit drew near, where she might have expected awkwardness or constraint; they were busy enough that they did not spend a great deal of time together, and when they did it seemed to help that they had a common goal to focus on. And if she ever found her gaze lingering on him a moment too long, or if she occasionally detected a certain perilous sweetness in a smile he directed her way, such instances were fleeting, and the two of them always took special care after such times to maintain a proper formality between them.

\---

Two days before the King’s advance party was expected, Sanditon House saw the arrival of a far more welcome party: that of Lord and Lady Babington, with Mr Crowe accompanying them once again. Lady Denham was particularly pleased to see the married couple, coming out to greet them as they alighted from their carriage.

“My, you are properly showing now, Esther,” she said exultantly as Lord Babington assisted his wife to the ground. “You seem to have doubled in size – yet it does not seem that long since you were last here!”  
“Perhaps not to you,” Esther responded a little grimly, as the little party went inside. “I could almost believe that time works differently when you are expecting. It seems an age that I have been carrying this child already, yet I still have several months to go. I swear any man other than Babington would have left me by now with my fits of temper.”

“I do not doubt you, my dear!” replied Lady Denham. Esther gave her aunt a faintly resentful look.

Lord Babington chuckled. “Have you been especially bad-tempered, my love? I had not noticed!”

Esther turned her head swiftly, frowning at him suspiciously as he hastily added, “And I would not have you any other way – as you know!”

She grimaced irritably. “Well, I would – I can hardly wait until this child is no longer inhabiting my body.”

Lord Babington smiled sympathetically. “That’s something we can both agree on – I can hardly wait to meet our little one.”

Having thus retrieved his precarious position, Lord Babington strode off to change out of his travelling clothes as Lady Denham turned to Esther with her familiar triumphant smile.

“It makes me so pleased to see how you and Lord Babington get on. All your little bickering and jokes – that speaks of a true comfort in your marriage already. I told you to marry that man – and I was right, wasn’t I? Didn’t I say that love had nothing to do with it?”

“I remember, Aunt. And I’m beginning to think you were quite mistaken.”

Lady Denham stopped and turned to Esther, a look of consternation on her face. “You do not regret marrying Lord Babington, surely?”

There was a long pause, before Esther replied almost reluctantly, “Not at all, Aunt. Merely that I’ve come to see that love does indeed have a great deal to do with it.”

“Well!” Lady Denham exclaimed, as if this was better than even she could have foreseen. “Well!”


	53. Chapter 53

It was the morning before the advance party of the King’s men was due to arrive. With the waves lapping gently along the shoreline and the golden shafts of sunlight breaking through patches in the mist to shine upon the headland, the scene on Sanditon beach would have made for a beautiful painting – were it not for the enormous dead whale that had washed up overnight and now lay sprawled on the sand. Clumps of driftwood surrounded the rotting carcass, which had begun to ooze, and a putrid stench hung low in the morning fog, announcing the newcomer’s presence to everyone who opened a window or ventured outdoors in the town.

Soon enough a crowd began to form around it, the onlookers covering their faces with handkerchiefs while children darted about, daring each other to touch it. The whale was truly an impressive sight to behold – half horror, half fascination – drawing the villagers near to see it even as the terrible smell repelled them. Gulls attacked the one eye that protruded from its huge, blunt head, while its jaw hung open to reveal rows of sharp teeth, flies crawling where its tongue had been. (Reader, it had been eaten by sharks.)

Sidney arrived at the beach a short time later, coming up to where Dr Fuchs, Mr Stringer, Mr Robinson and an older, rough-looking man he recognised as Fred Robinson’s father stood in a little cluster near the head of the beast.

“Good morning,” Sidney greeted them.

“Ah, Mr Parker, guten morgen,” said Dr Fuchs, bowing lower than was proper. “Have you met the newest Sanditon resident?” He waved his hand toward the whale. “Behold, a sperm whale!”

“Yes, I can see it – and smell it, what’s more to the point,” Sidney said, holding a handkerchief to his face. “It has to go. We can’t have it here when the King visits.” He poked it with his cane as Dr Fuchs bent over and began inspecting the teeth.

“A little piece of respect here for this old one, if you please,” the doctor said reprovingly. “What a mighty specimen he is! I’ve never seen a whale in the flesh before,” he said in awed accents.

“I’ve seen this kind before, although not quite as … er … ripe as this one is,” Sidney said. He screwed up his face and turned to the others. “It is all well and good to have such a curiosity here, but after another couple of days, the stench will drive the better part of the population out of town.”

“The better part?” asked Mr Robinson with a hint of belligerence.

Sidney looked at him. “Yes, the better part of town. All those downwind from it – that’s the majority of the households.”

Mr Robinson grunted suspiciously.

“What do you suggest, sir?” Mr Stringer asked.

“I wanted to hear about the ‘better’ part of town,” interjected Mr Robinson.

“Shut your pie hole, Fred,” growled the old man. “Let the gentleman speak. You’ll have to excuse my son,” he said to Sidney. “He’s a bit of a firebrand sometimes. Now let’s hear your suggestion, sir.”

Sidney hesitated. “How about burying it?”

Old Robinson shook his head. “Ain’t going to work, sir. When the tide comes in, it’ll just float back up again. Besides, it’ll get bigger as it bloats, and eventually it’ll pop …” He trailed off ominously. “Wouldn’t want to be around when that happens.”

“Burn it then. It’s mostly made of whale oil, isn’t it?”

The old man shrugged. “Perhaps. It’ll only be a small bit of oil. Besides, we don’t know how long it’ll take to burn. We’d probably have to deforest the whole south coast to get it burning, and then it’ll leave a fine mess here on the sand, what with charred bones and ashes. All the while it’ll be stinking, probably worse than it is right now, and –”

“And if it pops, what then?" interjected Young Robinson.

“If it pops while it burns,” answered Dr Fuchs, “the explosion will send pieces of the carcass all over the town.”

They all looked at the doctor, who shrugged, and continued prodding the whale. “Decomposition produces the methane gas, which is highly flammable, or as you say, inflammable.”

“Alright, that’s a bad idea,” Sidney said. He began to pace. “We can chop it up into pieces, and then either bury it further inland, or take it out to sea and dump it,” he said finally.

Mr Stringer shook his head. “Begging your pardon, sir, I don't think you’ll find very many labourers around here that would make themselves available to take an axe to this big fellow." He kicked the side of the whale lightly with his toe.

Sidney turned to Mr Stringer. “Well, what would you do with it?” he asked.

“The only thing left to do is give him a proper burial at sea,” Mr Stringer began.

“Hold on,” Sidney interrupted. “If we manage to get it in the water, it will just wash back up on the beach again.”

“Can't wait for the tide. Not going to be another spring tide like that for a fortnight, and no guarantee it'll be a big one,” warned Old Robinson.

Mr Stringer started again. “Sir, not all problems can be solved with one method. Sometimes multiple solutions are needed.”

Sidney stopped in his pacing and held up his hands in apology. “Sorry – please continue,” he said.

“The way I see it, Mr Parker, we need to pull this beast here down into the sea during the next high tide. Leave that part with me. Once the creature is afloat, we’ll need the tide, along with a rowing crew, to pull him out where it’s deeper. Once he’s far enough out, we can tie an anchor to his tail and leave him there until he sinks of his own accord.”

“Unless we give him a helping hand,” Sidney said slowly. “A little packet of black powder should do the trick, I think.” He reached a decision. “Very well, Mr Stringer – make it so.” He paused, looking at the mass of dead flesh nearby. “Just as well the King’s men are due tomorrow, not today. We’ll want to have this all gone by the time they arrive.”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Mr Stringer, and set to the task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing credits to my husband - again!!


	54. Chapter 54

A short time later, the Heywoods made their way down to the beach to see the spectacle for themselves. John and Alison had brought their drawing tools with them and began to set up their equipment a respectable distance away, while Charlotte approached the men working under Mr Stringer’s direction with a purposeful step, a note held in her hand. Sidney observed her approach and came up to greet her a little distance away from the whale, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, his clothes already covered in grime, a sheen of sweat on his face from the physical labour and the increasing heat of the day. Charlotte had never seen him so dishevelled and could not help noticing how his shirt stuck damply to his chest and arms in several places, but she resolutely turned her mind back to the matter at hand.

“Mr Parker,” she said urgently, without preamble, “I have just received a note sent from Lady Worcester. She warned me that the King’s head of security has been known more than once to arrive earlier than expected – to catch people unprepared and see the true state of affairs. I know they are due to arrive tomorrow, but I think we must make sure we are ready to receive them today.”

Sidney’s brows grew together as she spoke and he exhaled when she had finished, wiping a hand over his face as he turned to look at the vast bulk of dead flesh that loomed close by.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get rid of this today,” he said grimly.

Charlotte furrowed her brow as she looked past him to the workmen toiling hard. “You need more men,” she said firmly. “I’ll find you some.”

He raised a brow, turning back to her. “Mr Stringer has already directed all the labourers down here from the building site,” he said.

“Those men are not the only ones who can labour,” she responded, looking meaningfully at his own dirt-stained clothes.

He acknowledged this with a smile. “Well, Miss Heywood, if anyone can persuade them, I’d say it’s you.”

\---

Alison and John had just begun to put the first touches to their pictures when Mr Stringer came up to them with a nonchalant air. Alison tried to appear unconcerned at his approach: not for the world would she betray the way his presence made her heart beat faster and her hands fumble with her tools.

“Looks like a fine set up you’ve got there,” Mr Stringer commented casually to them. “Your sisters say you’re a talented painter, Mr Heywood.”

“What – Allie said something nice about me?” John asked in surprise, turning to Alison with a puzzled expression.

“It must have been Charlotte,” she replied sweetly.

Mr Stringer chuckled as he stood to one side, regarding them with his hands on his hips. “You played a fine game of cricket the other day, too, Mr Heywood,” he went on.

John opened his mouth but Alison was faster. “Pray do not pay him any more compliments, Mr Stringer. If his head gets any bigger I fear it may do him an injury.”

John turned to her with a grin. “Your concern for me does you credit, Allie! But not to worry – there is no danger of that happening as long as you are around.”

“Still … seems a waste of such a fine, strapping young man to be drawing when there’s some good hard labour that needs doing,” Mr Stringer continued reflectively.

Alison laughed as John said weakly, “Oh – does it?”

“Mr Stringer, I have been advised that when dealing with men, one must be direct, rather than dropping hints. Especially when you are dealing with a man who is particularly obtuse,” she said, frowning in concentration as she gazed ahead of her at the scene she sought to capture.

“Come, Mr Heywood – you’ve shown your sporting prowess with a cricket bat. Now’s your chance to show off your building skills,” said Mr Stringer.

“I believe Mr Stringer is requesting your assistance with the contraption they are building,” said Alison.

“Why, thank you, Allie,” her brother replied sarcastically. “Yes, I believe Mr Stringer has made his intentions plain enough for even such a dullard as I. Very well,” he said with the air of a martyr, as he stood up. “Let it never be said I was not there when my country needed me.”

“Truly, Johnny, I never knew the depths of your nobility until now,” Alison said solemnly. “To think I have had you so wrong all these years!”

“I’m much obliged to you, sir,” said Mr Stringer as John came to stand at his side. “I’ll try to return him in working condition, miss,” he said to Alison with a wink and a smile as he turned away with John in tow, whose eyes widened in alarm at this utterance.

“Why, Mr Stringer, I’m sure there could be nothing better for him than a good day’s labour,” said Alison confidently.

Mr Stringer chuckled as John cast a wounded look over his shoulder at his treacherous sister. “That my own sister should be so unfeeling!” he lamented, but she merely proved the truth of his remark by laughing again and bending her head to continue with her work, as he was led away to his.


	55. Chapter 55

John was by no means the most reluctant to be press-ganged into service, but still the number of men working under Mr Stringer’s direction grew steadily as Charlotte used all the powers at her command to plead, cajole, flatter and bully whatever gentlemen – and others – she could find into helping. Mr Stringer was not slow in putting them to use once they arrived, either, setting them to help with digging the trench, laying the rails leading out to the sea or cutting and hauling tree trunks for use as rollers or as part of the A-frame that was to lift the whale.

Some of the more jovial of the gentlemen seemed to find it a very good joke being relegated to work under the instruction of the foreman, and made a number of jests about their reduced position in society as they went about their tasks. Mr Stringer initially took these in good humour, but after perhaps the twentieth sally along the same lines his face took on a grimmer aspect and he ceased to laugh anymore at their jokes.

As the men worked, the ladies quickly gathered to provide refreshments and encouragement to them, trying to make their task as tolerable as possible. In this they were eagerly assisted by Arthur, whose doctor, though apparently emphatic in his opposition to Arthur engaging in such strenuous work as the other men were undertaking, harboured no such concerns regarding this milder form of exercise. So Arthur assured them.

As the sun rose high in the sky and Mr Stringer’s plan took shape with no sign of any official party, Charlotte began to hope that Susan’s warning would prove to be unfounded. Then, sometime in the afternoon, the boy appointed to the position of lookout came running up and announced breathlessly that three big black carriages were on their way, with footmen in bright livery riding on top, and Charlotte hurried over to let Sidney know.

Sidney uttered an oath as he turned to look at the whale, still lying in exactly the same location, though now with thick ropes running underneath it.

Mr Stringer wiped the sweat from his brow. “We’ve still got a good hour or two to go before it’s safely out in the water. We still need to wait for the tide to come in to row it out.”

“And your men will need to get back to the building site now the King’s men are here,” Sidney said to Mr Stringer. “We can’t have that sitting deserted when they arrive.” Mr Stringer nodded his assent and went to give the order to his men.

Charlotte said haltingly, “Perhaps they will understand when they learn the whale only washed up this morning and that we are in the process of disposing of it?”

Sidney grimaced. “I’d rather not take that chance.” He looked down at his soiled clothing. “And I am in no fit state to receive any royal ambassadors at present.”

“Well then – I will meet them,” said Charlotte decidedly, and his eyes darted back up at her. She gazed back confidently, a slightly defiant tilt to her chin. “I can show them around the different venues they wish to see, taking as long as possible, and make sure we come to the beach last of all. By then you will have got rid of the whale, with any luck, or at least be in the process of it.”

He paused, then shook his head, a little smile quirking his lips. “How is it you are still able to surprise me, Miss Heywood?” he asked in a low voice. “It seems I continue to underestimate you.”

She ignored the fluttering in her stomach at the tone of his words, merely saying wryly, “Well, I have not carried out my plan yet. Wait until we see the success of it before commending me too highly. I must go now, then – there is no time to lose. I will give you as long as I can, Mr Parker.”

“I will make sure we do not waste it,” he replied with a nod. “Just as well the wind is blowing out to sea now. This just might work.”

\---

Charlotte arrived in the square just as a number of men descended from three formidable black carriages, all dressed immaculately, if somewhat dourly, with none of the fripperies that commonly adorned gentlemen of fashion. As they looked around themselves, beginning to get their bearings, she set her shoulders and began to walk purposefully toward the portly gentleman who looked like he was in charge of the group.

“Forgive the impertinence, my lady,” came a voice to one side of her, and she stopped short, turning to find one of the elderly gentlemen addressing her. “Would you be able to direct us to Trafalgar House?”

She smiled brightly at him. “Of course! You wish to see the Parkers?”

“That’s right!”

She frowned. “I’m afraid Mr Parker is unavailable currently, but perhaps I may be of assistance?”

“Oh!” He looked quite taken aback. “Are you a relation of the Parkers, my dear?”

“I am a friend of the family,” Charlotte replied, “although I am staying with Lady Denham.”

He looked quite struck by this. “How fortuitous! Allow me to introduce myself – Mr Scott at your service, my lady. And you are …?”

“Miss Charlotte Heywood,” she replied, smiling. “You must be the men sent by the King? We were expecting you tomorrow.”

He looked a little shifty at this. “Oh, is that right?”

“As I said, Mr Parker is otherwise occupied at present,” she went on, “but I have been assisting with the preparations for the King’s visit and I would be able to show your party round, if that would be useful.”

He looked surprised. “You are not otherwise engaged, my dear?”

“Not at all – it would be no trouble,” she assured him. “I trust I would be able to answer any questions you may have – or direct you to the person who can.”

“That’s very good of you, Miss Heywood, I must say! Well, let me introduce you to the man in charge – Mr Barnaby,” he said, as he led her over to the stout gentleman she had already observed.

And so it was that Charlotte found herself acting as the official Sanditon representative on behalf of the Parker brothers. She lost no time in removing the King’s men from the town, showing them first to Lady Denham’s manor, from thence to the river, where the regatta was to take place, and then back to the town. As she led the group of men to the different locations, she discovered within herself an assertiveness and a capacity for loquacity she had not known she possessed, as she fielded questions on everything from the programme of events planned, to the different routes in and out of Sanditon, to information on the visitors currently staying in the town and the servants in the households. Now she had cause to be thankful that she was familiar with the details of the King’s visit as well as both Mr Parker’s and Lady Denham’s residences.

\---

They arrived at the beach over two hours later, just as a little rowboat made its way back to the shore from where an oily sheen and a few floating dead gulls were all that marked the spot of the recent explosion. No evidence of the whale remained, other than a large, discoloured patch of sand, and the only sign of the recent construction project was a few scattered logs lying on the beach. There were a good deal more people on the beach than normal, but now that the day’s entertainment was over most of them were drifting away again, each going his own way.

Charlotte exhaled quietly. She had not realised just how tense she had been until this moment. Mr Barnaby thanked her for her assistance and headed off in the direction of the shipwreck with his men, now that the official part of their tour was at an end, saying something about the need to report back to the Receiver of Wreck.

Charlotte made her way down the sand as John, Sidney, Lord Babington, Mr Crowe and Mr Stringer trudged slowly up from the water to where a small crowd of assembled onlookers still stood, ready to congratulate them.

“Oh, well done, gentlemen!” exclaimed Arthur with his usual enthusiasm. “Marvellous job!”

“ _And_ Mr Stringer!” Diana chimed in reprovingly. “We mustn’t forget about him!” She smiled brightly at Mr Stringer, who did not seem to appreciate being singled out in this way, merely looking away with a weary expression.

“Oh, yes – of course!” said Arthur hastily. “Couldn’t have done it without Mr Stringer!”

“Charlie!” exclaimed John, as she reached the group, coming up to her and bringing with him an overpowering stench. “Did you just arrive now? – You missed the explosion! What bad luck! You should have seen it – bits of whale flying everywhere! That’s a sight I shan’t soon forget. Upon my word, all our drudgery was worth it just to be here for that!”

“I shall simply have to make do with _imagining_ chunks of dead flesh flying through the air,” Charlotte said drily. “At least that explains what all those little bits of dirt are all over you.”

“That’s not the half of it, Charlie,” said John, looking down at his soiled clothes as if only just noticing the state of them. “Why, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a hard day’s work in my life! Mr Stringer was a severe taskmaster indeed to all us delicate gentlemen! But I suppose it’s all in a day’s work for _you_ , eh, Mr Stringer?”

Mr Stringer shook his head with a tight smile. “Can’t say I’m used to hauling dead whales out to sea, Mr Heywood. But I’m no stranger to hard labour, as you say.”

“Well, I can’t wait to get back, have a nice hot bath and relax. I feel I’ve earned it today! But oh – I must pack up my painting equipment. Not that there was any point in bringing it, as it turns out. I see Allie’s still there – I’d best be off.” And John suited the action to the words.

“Well, I’d best be off too – got to clean myself up and get back to my proper job,” said Mr Stringer wryly.

“Mr Stringer!” Sidney halted him as he turned away. “Thank you for all your work here today. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Sidney reached out a hand and Mr Stringer clasped it in return.

“It was a pleasure working with you, sir,” replied Mr Stringer firmly. “I’m happy to help.”

Then, as Mr Stringer made his way back up the beach, Sidney turned to Charlotte.

“We couldn’t have done it without you either, Miss Heywood,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made her heart beat uncomfortably fast. “I can safely commend you now, I think, for your success in occupying the King’s men as long as you did. We are in your debt.”

“You owe me nothing,” she said, with a little shake of her head. “Truly, Mr Parker. I am simply happy I could be of service.”

“Well, please accept my thanks, then, Miss Heywood … or should I say, Charlie?” He cocked one eyebrow and tilted his head as he gazed at her, a hint of a smile on his lips.

This was just the sort of playful intimacy they needed to guard against – how easily they slipped back into it. “Johnny is the only one who calls me that, sir – even within my family,” she replied in a stern voice, the effect of which was spoiled somewhat by the smile quivering on her lips.

“Duly noted,” he said gravely.

“Yes, well. You would do well to remember it,” she said severely, still not quite managing to suppress the smile that played around the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll be sure to,” he said. They stood there a moment longer, then he glanced down at himself and grimaced. “Well, I had better follow the other men’s example and wash this filth off me.”

“A very good idea, Mr Parker,” she said. As they turned to part, she added, with a glance back at him, “Perhaps not in the sea today, though?”

He paused and smiled appreciatively, his eyes meeting hers across the sand. “Perhaps not.”


	56. Chapter 56

John trudged over to where Alison sat, her smile of greeting at his approach gradually fading to be replaced by an expression of distaste. “I thought you were meant to be getting rid of the whale,” she commented as he walked up. “You seem to have brought some of it back with you.”

“Why, it’s like a souvenir! I had to get something to remember it by,” he replied with a grin. “And to provide some evidence of my hard work today. And what about you? Do you have much to show for your labours?”

She showed him her drawing, saying with a sigh, “I made sure to, if I’m to be submitting some works to this new art gallery in town.”

He shook his head. “I still can’t believe Mr Stringer persuaded you to display some of your art in public. I never thought I’d see the day!”

She made no reply to this but started tidying up her drawing implements instead, and John followed her example. They had nearly finished packing up their equipment when it happened. Alison was trying to manage all her loose papers, folder, sketchbook and pencils all at once, and lost control: the sketchbook slipped through her fingers, defying her vain attempts to catch it, and landed open on a well-worn page, revealing its secrets to the sky. Multiple little drawings crowded the paper, each one a variation of the same figure: each bearing the same clear eyes, strong jaw and curly hair, though each bore a different expression and his form was lovingly rendered from every conceivable angle, as if the artist was striving to capture every facet of the person on paper. She dropped everything else and fell to her knees, snapping the book shut as she cast a swift glance up at her brother to see if he had seen. He had; she saw the light of understanding in his eyes as he looked back at her, and she felt the blood rush to her face. She cast her eyes back down, gathered her belongings back in her arms again and regained her feet, and they set off in silence toward the town.

He looked sideways at her as they walked, then remarked softly, “So that’s how it is, is it?”

It was useless to deny it. “You won’t tell anyone.” It was half a statement; half a plea.

“Allie,” he chided. “Would I do that?”

She did not respond. They walked on in silence for a short distance, before she said in a brittle voice, “It’s nothing, Johnny. It’s all pointless anyway. He loves someone else.”

He exhaled, appearing to mull this over for a while before asking, “Have you told anyone?”

She shook her head. “No one.”

“Not even Charlotte?” He seemed surprised.

She gave a bitter laugh. “Especially not Charlotte.” She fixed her eyes ahead. “She is the one he is in love with.”

John glanced at his sister and saw the rigid line of her lips, the tight set of her jaw, the desolation in the eyes that gazed unseeing at the horizon. The unshed tears he could see standing in her eyes hinted at many others that had been allowed to fall in the past.

He said slowly, “I had discerned an interest in Charlotte’s direction from Sir Melbourne, but not from Mr Stringer, I must confess.”

Alison gave an attempt at a laugh. “Yes, poor Charlotte. I do not begrudge her the preference _Sir Melbourne_ displays for her, that is certain.”

John frowned. “Are you so sure Mr Stringer does harbour a preference for her too?”

She nodded jerkily. “Quite sure.”

He shook his head slowly, then put one arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him, even covered as he was in all his muck.

“Affections do change, you know,” he said quietly. “It may not be as hopeless as all that.”

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder, and the two of them walked on together in companionable silence.


	57. Chapter 57

With both unexpected visits successfully taken care of – to wit: the whale and his Majesty’s representatives – all those helping with the preparations for the royal visit breathed a cautious sigh of relief. The officials had evidently been satisfied with the preparations they saw, as no objection had been raised by them to the plans that were in place. Perhaps the beached whale was to be the last of the trials to overcome.

Then again, perhaps not.

All was now in train for the entertainments and attractions to be set forth for the King’s enjoyment. One of Sanditon’s latest attractions, the sauna room, had been recently completed, and Tom had conceived the idea from his sickbed in London that the King himself should be the first to try it out – what a mark of distinction to bestow on the Sanditon attraction! Sidney, however, abandoned this plan as soon as he received word of it. “Too risky,” he stated with certainty. “We had better test it first, and then the King can have the first official use of the building if he so desires.”

Arthur valiantly offered to be the one risking life and limb to test it out; and so it was agreed that the trial would take place two days before the King’s arrival. Dr Fuchs was to be on hand for any emergencies that might arise and to explain the concept of the sauna to Sidney, who would then, if required, explain it to his Royal Majesty King George IV.

\---

Sidney threw another couple of pieces of wood on the fire. “So the fire warms up the room inside, heating the stones.”

Dr Fuchs nodded expectantly, gesturing to him to continue.

“The patient proceeds into the heated room, where he is able to regulate the temperature and humidity by pouring water over the stones, generating steam, which … ah …” Sidney trailed off.

“The steam performs the cleansing and the purging of the unbalanced humours,” Dr Fuchs said with a sigh. “Do you require me to write this down? If you are not sure that you will remember it correctly, then I can present to the King.”

Sidney rubbed his forehead. “No, I can do it – I simply have a hundred other things on my mind right now, that is all.”

Dr Fuchs sighed again. “I will write it down for you,” he said.

Sidney closed the door of the firebox, which was burning nicely now. “Let’s see how this thing works,” he said. “Where’s Arthur?”

A muffled voice came from the changing area. “Here I am, I’m just a little stuck with this bathing costume. I think it’s ever so slightly too small.”

“You won’t be needing the bathing suit. Just wrap a towel around yourself,” Sidney called back with a touch of impatience.

“The towel is a little bit small as well,” came the voice. “No, oh, it was folded in half. Silly me. Never mind.”

Arthur stepped out moments later, wrapped in the towel, as instructed, an eager expression on his face. “Well, let’s get to it! I am looking forward to having my humours cleansed and balanced!”

With Arthur safely ensconced within the walls of the sauna and Dr Fuchs at the ready, there was not much more to do than to wait and try to assuage Diana’s concerns as the time passed.

Here it was that Charlotte and John came upon the little group as they passed by a short time later. John immediately wandered up to see what was going on and Sidney told them, saying with a meaningful look at his sister, “And as I’ve been telling Diana, there is no cause for alarm. We are expecting Arthur out shortly.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about …” Charlotte trailed off. “Only … shouldn’t there be more smoke coming out of the chimney?” she observed, looking up at it.

Sidney frowned, following her gaze. “Yes, I would have thought so.” He paused. “I will go and see …” But he got no further, as the outer door to the sauna burst open just then, and Arthur half stumbled, half fell out, clad only in a towel, clouds of smoke billowing out behind him. Diana promptly shrieked and fainted away, caught just in time by John before she hit the ground. Two quick strides took Sidney to his brother’s side; he helped Arthur to a spot a little distance away as Charlotte dipped a cloth into one of the buckets of water standing nearby and hurried to apply it to Arthur’s face, while Dr Fuchs began issuing curt instructions in German.

“I bore it as long as I could!” gasped Arthur. “But I couldn’t endure the smoke any longer!”

Sidney’s brows furrowed. “There shouldn’t have been an excess of smoke –”

Once again he was interrupted, this time by running footsteps and cries of “Fire, fire!” as several bystanders began to hurry to save what they took to be a burning building.

“Wait –” Sidney called out ineffectually, then swore and left Arthur to Charlotte and Dr Fuchs’ ministrations as he went to deal with the increasing numbers of people seeking to avert another catastrophic blaze.

Arthur was already beginning to look better, his face starting to return to its normal hue as he was revived by the cool cloths and fresh air, and Charlotte soon followed after Sidney to provide what assistance she could.

By the time she entered the sauna, both the fire in the sauna and the bewildered attendant nominally in charge of it had been thoroughly drenched; the fire had proved to be remarkably easy to quench, given it had never been out of control in the first place. All that was left to do was to disperse the mistaken rescuers, soothe the attendant’s agitation and provide him with a towel to dry himself off, and determine the cause of the presumed blockage in the chimney.

This too, however, proved easily enough dealt with; John, never one to have much patience with fainting females or delicate males, had promptly left Diana once she had recovered consciousness and clambered nimbly up onto the roof of the sauna to see what he could find.

“It’s a bird’s nest!” he called out to Charlotte as she emerged, squinting up at him. “That’s all it is! I’ll take care of it.”

And so the first trial of the sauna did not go exactly as planned; fortunately, however, there was no lasting damage, either to person or property, and the sauna was quickly restored to full working order.

“Well done, Mr Parker!” Charlotte said to Sidney after all had been set to rights again and they were preparing to leave. “It was a very good idea to test the sauna first, as it happens!”

He paused and looked at her with a little smile. “And thank you for your assistance, Miss Heywood. You have shown yourself to be very capable once again – just as I have come to expect.”

She was just turning to go when his voice came again. “Miss Heywood – ah, I hope the scene just before did not cause you any embarrassment, given my brother’s … attire,” Sidney said hesitantly.

She looked at him. “At least _he_ was wearing a towel,” she said pointedly, and had the satisfaction of seeing him momentarily lost for words, as she turned once more and exited the room.


	58. Chapter 58

The rest of the time before the King’s arrival seemed to pass in a blur; Charlotte had so much to do that she missed the arrival of Lady Worcester’s party the day before the King was expected, and she had no time for more than a quick greeting when she encountered Susan the following morning. Mrs Campion she did not see at all before the King’s arrival – though she was able to bear this particular deprivation with tolerable equanimity. Tom sent word to say he was recovering, but dare not risk returning quite yet. He hoped to make it for the final events before the King left Sanditon for London.

The historic day arrived and – what a relief! – they were blessed with fine, sunny weather, the bright skies overhead lending a festive feel to the crowd standing in the square. It seemed as if the whole of Sanditon had come out to line the streets, thronging to see a glimpse of this most illustrious visitor.

Now Charlotte saw Mrs Campion for the first time since the previous year: immaculately presented, as always, she stood beside Sidney, her arm casually linked through his as she talked and laughed with the other visitors of note who awaited the King’s arrival. Charlotte could not tell if Mrs Campion had even noticed her own presence.

Finally two large, imposing carriages made their ponderous way down and through the town, pulling to a stop at the place where the welcoming party awaited them. One of the footmen on the first carriage jumped down and opened the door, and the King’s figure filled the doorway. He descended heavily from the carriage as it creaked under his weight and was greeted by Sidney and Mrs Campion, one greeting him briefly and the other effusively, before they led him and his retinue into Trafalgar House, followed by Lord and Lady Babington.

Arthur turned to Charlotte with an expressive shrug. “Well, I suppose that’s it!” he said.

Charlotte smiled back. “I suppose so!”

And so the King arrived in Sanditon.

\---

Charlotte did not have to wait long to renew her acquaintance with Mrs Campion. The sky was a cloudless blue, the temperature warm and pleasant: perfect weather for a visit to the beach. The King evidently felt so, for he did not stay long at the Parker residence before emerging to be shown onto the sand. Here he was content to recline in the sun while various attendants hovered anxiously nearby in case he should want anything.

The hosts had succeeded so well in making the King comfortable that they had rendered themselves superfluous for the time being, and so Charlotte found Mrs Campion making her way over to where she and John were standing together.

“Miss Heywood! How lovely to see you again!” Mrs Campion was all smiles.

“Mrs Campion!” responded Charlotte, politely inclining her head, before introducing her brother.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Mrs Campion with a brief smile, before returning her gaze to Charlotte. “Now, Miss Heywood, I heard from Lady Worcester only recently that you were back in Sanditon! I confess I was surprised. Did you find so much to amuse you here that you were determined to come back for a second season?” Mrs Campion’s expression was all polite detachment, but her eyes seemed to scrutinise Charlotte closely.

“Lady Denham was kind enough to extend an invitation to my sister, Alison, and me,” Charlotte replied carefully. “I was eager to see all my friends here again, and Alison was desirous to experience the many attractions Sanditon has to offer.”

“Oh yes, of course it would seem very exciting to your family, I’m sure! For myself, it always seems so quiet here – such a nice change from the busy pace of life in London. I could only tolerate it for short stretches at a time, though. Never for the whole summer.”

“We’ve enjoyed our time here very much,” Charlotte replied, unwilling to engage with her interlocutor, but unable to stop herself from defending Sanditon.

“Oh, I do not doubt it!” said Mrs Campion, with an earnest expression. “It is a charming little town – quite charming! And I can fully appreciate the reasons you and your sister might have for coming here. You are still unattached, I gather?”

Charlotte gave a sharp little nod.

Mrs Campion shook her head and tutted. “Really – it is too bad! And such a pretty little thing. I must see if there is any young man of my acquaintance who might do for you!”

“That’s extremely kind of you, Mrs Campion!” replied John, before Charlotte had a chance to respond. “But do you happen to know any rich old men instead? I do have seven unmarried sisters, and as the eldest son in the family I feel some responsibility to have at least one of them married off to someone with a vast fortune. And I have heard that many people consider rich, older gentlemen to make the best sort of husband – better than any young man.” He laughed, as Mrs Campion paled and her mouth set in a rigid line. He continued contemplatively, “I can readily understand, of course, that from the young lady’s perspective a handsome young man would appear more attractive as a prospective husband, but you know what they say!” He shook his head sorrowfully. “We can’t have it both ways, eh?”

Mrs Campion did not dignify this with a response, fixing him with a freezing look before sweeping away.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked in bemusement.

“Johnny!” Charlotte exclaimed in a low voice, torn between embarrassment and amusement. “Do you know about her history with Sidney Parker?”

“Oh yes, I know all about that,” he murmured, eyeing Mrs Campion’s retreating back. “Nasty piece of work. If she thinks I’ll stand by and let her talk to you like that, she badly mistakes the matter.”

“Oh, Johnny,” said Charlotte, touched by his loyalty.

“Just goes to show,” he said, still looking thoughtfully in Mrs Campion’s direction, “you can be rich and beautiful and still be an utterly miserable creature.” He looked at Charlotte with a wry expression. “I pity her fiancé.”

Charlotte looked back at her brother. “I pity them both,” she replied, and knew it for the truth.

\---

Mrs Campion was not one to forget insults, and did not hesitate to let her fiancé know what she thought of Mr Heywood later that day, while remaining deliberately vague on the exact nature of the remarks made by that young man.

“That insolent boy,” she fumed. “I’m sure he said it on purpose.”

“John?” asked Sidney incredulously. “He’s the most good-natured boy I think I’ve ever encountered! I’m sure any insult you imagined was not deliberate on his part.”

“Oh, Sidney – you are too gullible by far. He knew exactly what he was doing, you may be sure of it! Indeed, I should not have expected anything else, given his family!”

“What do you mean by that?” Sidney asked, frowning, his voice dangerously low.

“They are all of them insolent and bold – a grasping, self-consequential family! Always trying to further their own ambitions and thrust themselves forward. I wish you might have nothing to do with any of them!”

Sidney sighed, pausing for a few moments before replying, keeping his anger under tight control. “John is young,” he said. “The boy needs a mentor, and I am happy to provide what guidance I can to him. You cannot dictate all of the people I may choose to associate with, Eliza.”

“What _can_ I dictate to you?” she cried dismally, suddenly switching from fury to tragedy. “Who am I, after all – merely the woman you are betrothed to marry! It seems to count for nothing. You do not seem to heed any of my wishes!”

He was momentarily speechless. Then he asked carefully, “Is this truly about the Heywoods, Eliza? Or is it something else?”

“Oh, Sidney,” she said, pacing in vexation, “It is about you! What I expect from you and what you are prepared to give me!”

“Well? What is it you want from me, Eliza?” he asked in exasperation.

She stopped and faced him, her ready tears falling from her eyes. “Why, just some reassurance of love! Some displays of affection! Is that too much to ask from my own fiancé, pray?”

The irritation abruptly left his face. He sighed and cast his eyes downward, standing silently for a few moments. “No, that’s not too much to ask.”

She sniffed and looked slightly mollified.

“But it’s more than I can give you,” he said gravely. She froze in astonishment, gaping up at him as he bowed, gathered up his hat and walked out, leaving her standing as still as a statue.

**END OF EPISODE SIX**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on that note, I would like to say thank you to all my faithful readers - and to any unfaithful ones 😜 - and wish you a wonderful Christmas! I will be away for about a week from tomorrow to spend Christmas with my family, so will be taking a break from posting over that time. I hope you all have a great holiday, if you are able to have one! And I hope to see you in a week or so for the rest of my season 2. xxx


	59. Episode Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope you all had as lovely a break as I did. Thank you for bearing with me with my longer than expected time off - after a few distractions, I am happy to be back in Sanditon again, and looking forward to continuing this story to its completion!
> 
> A word of warning - there is not a great deal of Sidlotte in this episode - Mrs Campion is making sure of that, unfortunately, so instead there's a bit more attention on our secondary couple. I will try to make it up to Sidlotters in episode 8.

**EPISODE 7: The Social Game**

“Can you imagine what the rest of our family will say when they learn we have dined with the King?” said Alison as the two sisters walked through the outskirts of the town. “Doesn’t it sound impressive! I would hardly have believed it myself a few weeks ago!”

“I know – I don’t think I’ve ever been in the presence of so many lords and ladies in all my life,” said Charlotte. The dinner at Lady Denham’s the previous night had made their usual mealtimes there seem like cosy family gatherings: besides the King himself and several of his retinue, there had been a number of visiting dignitaries, as well as Lady Worcester, Lord and Lady Babington, Sir Melbourne, Mr Crowe, the various members of the Parker family and – of course – Mrs Campion. “Poor Harriet!” Charlotte went on, thinking of their youngest sister and her obsession with all things royal. “She would have loved to have been there!”

“Oh yes, she will be quite beside herself with envy when she learns of it, I daresay,” agreed Alison matter-of-factly.

“We must simply try to convince her that the reality did not quite live up to the idea of it,” said Charlotte, thinking back to her one interaction with the King: she and Alison had been presented to him before the meal, and upon hearing her name, he had raised his brows and commented offhandedly, “Charlotte! That was my daughter’s name too.” But the look he had cast over her was anything but fatherly.

The meal itself had passed off pleasantly enough; the King was obviously used to being in command of the conversation and was not short of amusing tales to tell, but talked with an air of easy familiarity that encouraged others to participate too. Not that the sisters had been close enough to join in; they had been placed down the far end of the table, a position they had been perfectly content to occupy, seated as they were amongst their friends.

Still, if Charlotte had found it a trial to be in Sidney’s presence these past few weeks, seeing him with Mrs Campion was ten times worse. Try as she might, Charlotte had been unable to focus on the discussion at hand, her attention frequently wandering down to the other end of the table, where Mrs Campion’s every move seemed to proclaim her ownership of Sidney: the easy familiarity with which she looked up at him, the way her hand playfully touched his arm, the boldness with which she leaned to whisper something in his ear. Sidney’s own impassive face and straight back conveyed no answering affection – if indeed that was what Mrs Campion’s own gestures conveyed. It rather seemed to Charlotte as if Mrs Campion treated Sidney more as an ornament than as a man whose worth she truly recognised.

“Isn’t that so often the way of things, though?” Alison mused, jolting Charlotte back to the present. “We construct a fantastical image in our minds, and then the reality has no chance of living up to the fantasy we have created.” They walked in silence for a little while, as the building site in the centre of the town came into view. “Perhaps we would have enjoyed it more if we were more ambitious,” Alison went on, smiling wryly, “and an introduction into those higher circles was something we were actively seeking.”

Charlotte thought again of Mrs Campion sitting beside Sidney near the top of the table, laughing as she exchanged sallies with the King. She frowned. “Or perhaps that would have deprived us of what pleasure we did enjoy,” she said thoughtfully. “Just imagine how it must be – always thinking of how to advance yourself and which people to curry favour with, unable to simply enjoy the company of those around you without thinking what advantage may be gained from it. Never content with what you have; always grasping for more. What a dissatisfying existence that must be.”

“You mean like Tom, with Sanditon?” asked Alison drily. Charlotte stared at her sister. “Oh dear – I was not thinking of him,” she said ruefully. “I hope he’s not quite so bad as that. In any case, he’s had the King himself to visit Sanditon now – what more could he want?”

There was a pause, then Alison said quietly, “There will always be something more.”

Still – whatever Tom’s future might hold and however content (or otherwise) his current existence might be, Charlotte and Alison had promised to help in whatever way they could with the royal visit, so that must be their focus now. Charlotte put the previous evening’s dinner from her mind and turned her attention to the plans for the day ahead, as Alison bid her farewell and departed in the direction of the market.

It was another fine day, one that might lend itself to a tour of the town and the particular attractions it had to offer, like the sauna or the art gallery. John had been working harder than Charlotte had ever seen him and had contributed several pieces of work to be displayed, while even Alison, contrary to Charlotte’s expectations, had put forward a small number of sketches that now hung for all to see. Charlotte inspected the rooms where the various pieces of art and items from the shipwreck were displayed, making sure all was as it should be, and had just emerged onto the street, blinking in the bright sunlight, when a musical voice called a greeting from nearby.

“Ah – Charlotte! Just who I was hoping to see!” Susan exclaimed as she walked up, smiling widely. “Would you care to go for a little stroll with me before the fashionable part of the town wakes up? Don’t worry, the King is never out of his bedchamber before noon,” she reassured Charlotte, seeing her hesitation, “particularly when he is on holiday!”

Charlotte agreed, on the condition they take care not to be gone for too long, and so they turned their steps toward the quiet country lanes just outside the town. Though it was only mid-morning, the air already felt warm and heavy, and the two of them walked slowly, neither one anxious to work up a sweat. They made their way along the dirt paths, their arms linked companionably as they talked for a while of general things, before Susan approached the topic she seemed to take such a keen interest in.

“And how have you been since I saw you last? Did you heed my advice not to lose hope where a certain gentleman is concerned?” Susan looked at her, brows raised, as if she were a teacher testing a student.

“Susan –” Charlotte began, then stopped, a feeling of despair and exasperation rising within her. She sighed and gestured helplessly. “How can there be any hope? You have seen them – nothing has changed, nor is there any sign that anything will. He is still obliged to marry her and she is determined to make him honour that obligation. So you see, any hope I might cling to would be a false one.”

“What I see is that you and Sidney Parker are just as much in love with each other as you ever were,” Susan said, completely unfazed.

Charlotte stared at her friend in disbelief. “You have not seen us exchange a single word!” She knew it to be true, since nothing whatsoever had been spoken between her and Sidney since Mrs Campion had arrived.

Susan gazed back at her quizzically. “My dear girl, whatever do you mean? I do not need to see you _speak_ with one another to see the strength of feeling there! Besides – spoken words are hardly the only form of communication, are they? Your eyes have said much that your lips cannot!”

Charlotte cast her eyes guiltily to the ground, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Had she been that indiscreet in her glances at Sidney? Or was it simply that Susan was unusually perceptive? She fervently hoped it was the latter.

“It is wicked!” Charlotte said urgently, keeping her voice low. “He is engaged to be married to another woman. I should not be giving expression to any feelings I might still harbour!”

Lady Susan arched a brow. “Well, he is not married yet, is he?” she noted.

Charlotte gave a little laugh. “He cannot break the engagement. He is too honourable for that.”

“Ah, but _she_ could,” Lady Susan remarked meaningfully.

“She won’t,” Charlotte replied bleakly.

“She might,” rejoined Lady Susan. “It appears to me that all it would take is a better offer. Or something getting in the way.” Her keen eyes observed Charlotte for a moment, before turning back to the path ahead. “At any rate, he doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to seal his union with Mrs Campion. I hear the wedding date has been postponed several times already. Such a regrettable state of affairs.”

Charlotte looked swiftly at Susan, who looked mischievously back at her – she had not been aware of this, and a sharp ray of hope cut through her again. She damped it down ruthlessly, as a sudden suspicion occurred to her.

“Did you have any part to play in these delays?” she asked Susan hesitantly.

Susan sent her a look of mock reproach. “Now, would I ever stand in the way of true love? You know me better than that, surely!”

Charlotte could not resist a smile at the thought of whatever machinations Susan had been undertaking in London, but shook her head. “Thank you, Susan – I know you’re trying to help, but it’s of no use. It’s only delaying the inevitable.”

Susan looked at her appraisingly and did not respond for a few moments. Then she merely said, “Perhaps. We shall see.”


	60. Chapter 60

“Did you share all the secrets of your heart with Susan again?” asked Alison a little later, when Charlotte had returned to town and Susan had gone to see if the King was ready to leave the house yet. “I hope she was not giving you a false sense of hope.”

“I know better than to indulge in any false hopes, Alison,” Charlotte responded a little wearily. “But Susan – well, she can be a very sympathetic listener,” she went on, thinking of her friend’s attentive looks and her ability to know exactly how Charlotte was feeling. “She never seems to grow weary of me unburdening my heart to her, as tiresome as I’m sure that would be to most people.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, though?” Alison asked hesitantly. “Are you sure you know her well enough to be so open with her about all these private matters?”

“It’s a little late now,” Charlotte replied wryly. “Besides, Susan has never betrayed my confidence up to this point, and indeed I cannot imagine her ever doing so. She is a most faithful friend, and somehow I knew that from the very moment of meeting her. I’ve felt comfortable with her right from the start, you see,” she explained.

“Do you mean – you felt a kind of connection with her?” Alison asked slowly.

“Yes, exactly,” Charlotte nodded.

“And it felt familiar, somehow, as if you knew each other already, though you had never met before?” Alison continued thoughtfully.

Charlotte frowned. “Yes, like meeting a long-lost friend or a sister, I suppose.”

Alison turned to look at her. “I see. I think I know what you mean. Still, I think you are very trusting to share so much with her,” she said meditatively. “I’m not sure I could be so open with such a recent acquaintance. I find it hard enough to confide in those I have known all my life.”

“Oh, I don’t know – you certainly looked as if you were confiding in Mr Stringer quite happily the other day,” teased Charlotte, her brows raised suggestively.

“Oh – well,” replied Alison, blushing, with a little smile. “But Mr Stringer is so easy to talk to!”

“He is, isn’t he?” Charlotte agreed. “He is a great listener. He was such a good friend to me last year!”

Alison’s smile faltered; her eyes fell. “I’m sure he was,” she said. “I know he holds you in high regard.”

“As I do him,” Charlotte responded cheerfully. “He is such a good man – so kind, and honourable, and … and dependable.”

Alison glanced back up at her and looked as if she were about to respond, but just then the messenger boy ran up to inform them that the King was on the move and was headed their way.

\---

As it happened, the display rooms were the first place the King stopped on his tour of the township, accompanied by Susan and surrounded by a nimbus of officials, flunkeys, and general hangers-on.

Charlotte stood by the door with Mary as the sizeable party followed Sidney and Mrs Campion inside the art gallery. Laughter and chatter echoed throughout the newly christened gallery, with murmurs of appreciation for each painting and _objet d'art_ that the King paused to inspect. Everything seemed in order, the guests all appearing to be sufficiently interested in the various items on display, and Charlotte was just turning to go when she suddenly felt Mary stiffen beside her.

“Did you hear that?” Mary asked in an urgent undertone. “Mr Hastings! Is he here?” Charlotte looked at her stupidly for a moment before light dawned on her.

“Oh – the Receiver of Wreck? The difficult official Tom has been corresponding with?”

As she spoke, Mrs Campion’s bright voice came floating out to them over the rumble of the men’s lower tones, confirming Mary’s fears. “Thank you, Mr Hastings! There is indeed a great deal of talent here in Sanditon. It is the least we could do to display it for everyone to see!”

Mary looked at Charlotte in apprehension. “Yes, the very one! Oh! Charlotte – I heard from Tom several days ago that Mr Hastings has utterly refused our request to keep the items from the shipwreck, and insists they are the property of the Crown, and must be surrendered at once. I meant to remove them, but we’ve been so busy with everything … And now he is about to see them all displayed, in direct contravention of his orders! Is there any way to prevent it?” Charlotte gazed back at Mary as a plan began to form in her mind. She quickly reached a decision; it was worth a try. “I have a better idea,” she said, and turned to enter the room.

The crowd reluctantly let Charlotte through as she began to weave her way to the centre where the King stood, admiring an ornate suit of armour borrowed from Lady Denham’s estate. Susan stood at his side, the enigmatic smile on her face radiating a serene benevolence. She quickly perceived Charlotte’s attempts to navigate the crowd and exclaimed, “Charlotte – well met!”

Sidney, standing with some of the officials near the entry, immediately raised his head, and Mrs Campion turned and raised her brows interrogatively, but Charlotte ignored them both, walking up to Susan instead as the crowds parted now as if by magic. Charlotte curtsied to His Royal Majesty, who merely nodded and continued along to the next item on display – a tapestry from the parish church depicting Saint Sebastian, which had been in storage ever since Henry VIII broke with the Roman Catholic church and images of the saints had become unpopular.

“Well met, Susan! How are you finding the display?” Charlotte replied brightly.

“It’s very good!” Susan replied. “It has proven to be more impressive than I was expecting, I must own!”

“Good! And has His Majesty seen the items we retrieved from the recent shipwreck?” Charlotte asked with an innocent smile, her voice deliberately pitched to include the King beside Susan.

“No, not yet! Are they most exotic?” Susan replied, and the King glanced Charlotte’s way, his attention caught.

Charlotte felt her pulse quicken and replied hastily, “Indeed they are! And it is quite excellent timing for His Majesty to be visiting, because we have been going through the approval process to be allowed to display the items, but it would be much easier for the King to simply grant his permission today – if he is satisfied with the exhibition, of course.”

Charlotte held her breath as she looked at the King, who was now looking off to one side with a frown. “Hastings!” he barked suddenly. “Isn’t this your domain? Authorising bits and pieces from shipwrecks and suchlike?”

Charlotte’s stomach turned to lead as she saw the tall, thin man who had been conversing with Mrs Campion detach himself instantly and hasten across to them – this was the situation she had been expressly trying to avoid. She forced herself to smile politely as the King asked Mr Hastings if he was aware of the status of the items in question.

Mr Hastings drew his brows together fiercely. “They are on display? Your Majesty, I have already conveyed to Mr Parker in no uncertain terms that these items are the property of the Crown! I have instructed that the treasures be handed over, not set out! Why – the impudence! To parade your Majesty’s own property before you, when the very act itself is a flagrant defiance of your authority – well!” He seemed momentarily lost for words, and Charlotte desperately seized the opportunity to speak.

“Yet what better place to display the objects than where the shipwreck was found?” she interjected. “I hardly think the items will bear much significance if transported elsewhere – particularly when the shipwreck itself is still visible on our shores. Are the museums in London so lacking in pieces of broken pottery that they require all of the ones here, too?” She tried for a light, jesting tone for this last sentence, but Mr Hastings was unmoved. He frowned sternly at her, before turning back to the King. “The fact remains that this decision is not for this woman to make, or Mr Parker – or indeed anyone other than you, Your Majesty – or your representative.”

“Indeed it is not!” she agreed quickly. “And since you are here in person, Your Majesty, you can decide for yourself what you think is best.”

The King, standing unperturbed throughout this exchange, said easily, “Well, I must say I’m rather curious now to see this display for myself. Lead on, Miss Heywood!”

And so Charlotte, heart beating wildly, led them through to the adjoining room.

A short while later, Charlotte emerged with her lips tightly pressed together and collapsed into a chair next to Mary, letting her breath out in a rush. Mary reached out and clasped her arm. “Well?” she asked anxiously.

Charlotte looked up at Mary and smiled with relief. “It is all taken care of!” she said.

“Oh, well done, Charlotte!” said Mary warmly. “Thank you!”

“It was a close run thing,” responded Charlotte with a grimace. “Poor Mr Hastings’ pride has been severely wounded, I think! But, as it turned out, the King himself could not care less where the items were located, and was perfectly happy to grant us permission to keep them.”

“What a relief!” exclaimed Mary. “I’m so pleased it was so easily resolved.”

“Quite!” said Charlotte. “I only hope we may avoid any more confrontations throughout the rest of the King’s visit!”


	61. Chapter 61

The following day was the day of Senora Fiore’s second performance in Sanditon. Other than the confrontation with Mr Hastings, the royal visit seemed to be going smoothly. The King had enjoyed his experience in the sauna room, no further foul-smelling objects had washed up on the beach and all the preparations were in place for the upcoming events.

Alison sat in front of the mirror as the time neared for them to leave for the concert, gazing anxiously at her reflection, but it was not the King and his retinue that occupied her mind. She had taken special care with her appearance this evening; she wondered if Mr Stringer would notice. She tentatively fingered the soft curls framing her face, then pressed a hand to her stomach as a surge of butterflies raced through it. She was excited about tonight, and it was not on account of Senora Fiore. Truth be told, she could not understand the appeal of the opera singer; she would enjoy the music much more if it were just the instruments playing. The concert was more a trial to be endured than a pleasure to be enjoyed – but she hoped the socialising beforehand and during the interval might make up for it.

She was to see him tonight; he had said he would be there. She no longer tried to deny it to herself or downplay the strength of her feelings. She knew she was lost, and now permitted herself to look forward to their meetings and enjoy them to the full – as much as she could, that is, in the presence of her racing heart, her anxiety and self-consciousness. Every meeting was too long in coming and too quickly over, though the time spent with him was both exhilaration and agony. Every smile of his, every glance, was treasured up to be dwelt on later, while her own words and expressions she looked back on afterward with many an inward shudder at how she must have come across. So she looked forward to the evening, with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

She saw him often enough during the day, of course, but he was busy and distracted then, especially in recent days. And she was not usually dressed so finely as she was now. Not that it was likely to make a difference, she thought dourly as she turned away and began checking she had everything she needed in her reticule. She had first-hand knowledge now that once your affections had been claimed by someone, he was the only one you saw; let another be as handsome as Adonis himself, it mattered not – they were powerless to make an impression on your heart. And she had seen for herself how Mr Stringer had looked at Charlotte when they first arrived in Sanditon, how he had followed her with his eyes and bent to catch any word she might speak. Nor had she seen any evidence to suggest his affections had changed, despite anything John might say.

She glanced one last time in the mirror, and her sombre reflection looked back. She sighed. Still – there could be no harm in looking her best, she reasoned, as she rose and left the room.


	62. Chapter 62

They entered the assembly room to find it just as full as for the inaugural concert – that previous performance that seemed such an age ago now. This time Lady Denham was no longer the preeminent guest, nor was Tom on hand to hover anxiously while he ensured everything was to her ladyship’s satisfaction. Instead, Sidney strode across to greet them, his eyes seeking out Charlotte’s face first, as they always did, before moving over the rest of them. As he inquired civilly after their health and began to indicate where their seating would be, Alison’s own attention was arrested by a tall figure at a little distance, his curls neatly arranged, his physique set off to admiration by his formal attire. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw he was looking in her direction with a smile, and she gave him a wide smile in return, before remembering belatedly that Charlotte was standing directly beside her, and that she must be the smile’s intended recipient. Alison looked away hastily, chastising herself for allowing herself to hope. She must not betray her feelings; she must remember Charlotte’s claim on Mr Stringer’s affections, and not make a fool of herself to him. She could not bear the humiliation of him knowing how she felt – knowing, and the kind, gentle rejection that would inevitably follow. She shuddered inwardly at the thought of it. She did not want his pity. No, she wanted something far greater and far more elusive; and yet she did not have the slightest idea how to go about obtaining it.

The first half of the concert passed, and Alison could not have said how it was, so wrapped up was she in her thoughts. She knew she was prone to dwell too long on examination of her own actions and others’, and reminded herself to simply enjoy herself as much as she was able, instead of working herself up into a state of anxiety. Fretting was quite useless, after all; it achieved nothing beyond depriving her of whatever faculties she still possessed when Mr Stringer was in her vicinity. Having resolved this in her mind, she made her way out to the foyer in the interval, determined not to look around for where a certain foreman might be amongst the crush of people.

“Miss Heywood! How are you finding the evening’s entertainment so far?” came a familiar voice at her elbow, sending a thrill throughout her whole body.

“Very well, thank you!” she replied with a fair attempt at nonchalance, turning to encounter Mr Stringer’s wide grin, as he gazed at her with that mixture of mischief and sweetness that had been her downfall from their very first meeting. How Charlotte remained immune to his charm she would never understand. She glanced away, getting her thoughts in order. “That is –” she corrected herself, looking back up at him with an impish smile of her own. “To be honest, the opera would not be my pastime of choice, but when everyone declares Senora Fiore to be exceptionally talented, I am perfectly happy to nod along in agreement. I daresay they are right.”

He chuckled. “Not a fan either, then? Glad to hear I’m not the only one. It seems as if all the fashionable guests are in raptures over her performance, but I just don’t think it’s my style. I guess that makes me unfashionable,” he said with an expressive shrug.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “From what I understand, there are some very fashionable people who have essentially founded their reputations on being perpetually unimpressed. I’m sure we would be in good company.” She caught sight of Mrs Campion in conversation with Sir Melbourne at a little distance, talking animatedly with an expression of distaste on her face, and mentally revised her last statement.

“So what would be your pastime of choice?” Mr Stringer asked casually.

“Oh!” She was unprepared for such a question. She looked back at him, then away as she wrinkled her brow in thought. “Well, you already know I love to sketch, and I am also fond of reading, and, well …” She thought of her evenings back in Willingden, and what she might be doing now if she were back there. “I also love being out in nature. Back home, on warm summer nights, I would sometimes go outside – not too far from the house, of course – and simply sit and listen to the sounds around me, and watch the sun set, and feel the fading warmth of the day.” She paused, then to prevent herself sounding like an insipid hermit, added hastily as she looked back at him, “But I also love to go out to balls and other entertainment too, of course.”

He was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but as he opened his mouth to respond, another voice carried through first.

“What is _he_ doing here?” It was Mrs Campion, her clear tones cutting through the din with ease, though she did not speak loudly. “Isn’t he the foreman?”

Alison’s eyes widened in dismay, and she saw from the rigid set of Mr Stringer’s mouth and the sudden drop of his eyes that he had heard Mrs Campion too, though he kept his face impassive.

Sir Melbourne’s smooth voice responded, too quiet to make out what was said, before Mrs Campion’s low laugh reached them, followed by her reply. “For shame, Sir Melbourne! But you are right, of course – after all, Tom is never going to succeed in his quest to make this a truly fashionable resort if he lets just _anybody_ in. What next – mingling with the servants?” This witticism was followed by a peal of laughter, as Alison stood frozen in helpless mortification, her eyes fixed on Mr Stringer’s face. He had flushed red, his expression forbidding.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said shortly, not meeting her eyes. He bowed, turned on his heel and was gone.

She stood there a moment longer, then hurried after him through the press of bodies. She saw him make his way into one of the passageways leading to a side door and slipped out too, nearly running to catch up to him.

“Mr Stringer!” she hissed in an urgent whisper and he whipped around, a startled look on his face – evidently he had not expected her to follow him. “I pray you would come back!”

He did not move from his position near the door. “You don’t want to be associating with me, miss,” he said with a humourless laugh. “Best if you return to those of your own station.”

She fixed him with a fierce glare. “Mr Stringer, don’t be ridiculous.”

“But that’s just it – that’s exactly what I am, isn’t it? Ridiculous?” He looked away, running a hand through his hair – a gesture of distress.

“Indeed you are not!” she snapped, as if she were scolding her brother for one of his more hare-brained schemes.

He carried on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m a fool – that’s what I am. My father was right. I should have listened to him and not tried to play at being a gentleman.”

“You are not a fool,” she said, more gently.

He looked at her now and shook his head, his expression sober. “I’m a fool to think I can aspire to be anything more than what I was born.”

“Mr Stringer!” She exhaled in frustration, and decided to try a different approach. “All this because of one woman’s remarks? I did not take you for someone so easily cowed.”

He gave a little laugh. “It’s not just her, though, is it? She’s just saying it out loud. How many of you secretly regard me the same way? As a fraud – a fake?”

“Mr Stringer – I thought you knew us better than that,” she said reproachfully.

He shook his head again and sighed, looking at her solemnly. “You’ve always been a good friend to me, miss. But tell me – do you truly regard me as an equal with the gentlemen of your acquaintance?”

She took a deep breath and summoned her courage, gazing squarely into his eyes. “You are more than equal to them, Mr Stringer. You are truly a gentleman in all the ways that matter.”

He paused for a few moments, looking at her intently, before giving a little shrug and casting his eyes downward. “Aye, you’ve always been kind to me, Miss Heywood. You and your sister both. Neither of you would ever say something you’d think might hurt me. You must know I set great store by your opinion.”

She stood there, unable to think what to say for a few moments. _Your opinion –_ did he mean hers? Or Charlotte’s? _Which do you think?_ came a cynical voice from inside her. She said slowly, “Do you really set so much store by that?”

He was silent for so long she began to think he was not going to answer. “I’m afraid I do,” he said softly, looking back up at her with an inscrutable expression.

She gazed down at her hands, held tightly together in front of her. “Well, I know that Charlotte holds you in high regard. She told me so only yesterday. She was telling me how good a friend you had been to her.”

There was a pause. “And what about you, miss?” She was still looking down at her hands, so she did not see the light in his eyes as he looked at her.

“I do not see that it is of any great consequence,” she replied bleakly.

The light left his eyes; his face closed up. “No, I’m sure you’re right – forgive me for asking. It wasn’t my place. Thank you for your kind words, miss. You truly are a good friend to me.”

She looked up then, watching as he bowed again and made his way out into the dark night, leaving her standing there alone.


	63. Chapter 63

Alison did not see Mr Stringer again until the regatta, two days later. Two days of introspection, and vain attempts to distract herself from the scene that played out again and again in her mind, as she wondered what she could have said or done differently to make him listen. Not that there was any point, of course; she knew that, but still she could not stop herself imagining how the conversation might have gone differently, and blaming each of them in turn for the way it had gone; now herself, now Mr Stringer, but most of all Mrs Campion for her careless, heedless words that had caused such damage.

On the day after the concert, Tom returned, having been given reluctant approval from his London doctor. He looked thinner and drawn, but his pallor only served to accentuate the triumphant light in his eyes as he proclaimed that it would take more than a little touch of influenza to keep him from Sanditon in its finest hour. He might be a little weak physically after his illness, but let it never be said he lacked determination, or a number of other fine qualities; for whatever toll the illness might have taken on his body, it had certainly not impaired his tongue.

Alison could not summon much interest in this development, however; she was finding it difficult to focus on anything other than when she would next see Mr Stringer and how their encounter might go. Yet when she did finally meet him at the regatta, passing him quite unexpectedly as she walked along the riverbank, it left her feeling even more despondent than before. Any thought that he might have reflected on her words and taken heart from them evaporated in the face of his solemn greeting, his polite but distant bow of the head. Her cautious smile drew no answering one from him, and the brief encounter left her wishing almost that she had not seen him at all. At least during the period of agonised waiting there had still been some hope. Now it seemed there was none. If he had harboured any plans, however tentative, of making one of the sisters an offer – whoever it might have been – it appeared that neither was to receive one now. So completely had he been convinced of his own lowly status that he could not fail to view such a match as impossible.

So it was that when John wandered up later from a lively conversation with two giggling brunettes to where Alison and Charlotte stood by the river, she was more than usually acerbic toward him.

“I wish you wouldn’t be such a flirt, Johnny,” she said disapprovingly as he approached, frowning at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so fusty, Allie!” he responded. “There’s nothing in it!”

“To you, maybe,” she replied tartly. “But you should know that the mothers of unmarried daughters are always on high alert for any eligible young bachelor paying their daughter the least attention.”

“I’m hardly the biggest prize on the marriage market,” he said with a yawn. “I shouldn’t think any mother would be that desperate to get her hooks into me.”

“Well, the mothers may not be such a problem,” she conceded. “But I hope you may not break some poor girl’s heart without even realising.”

He looked quite struck by this. “Allie – you don’t say! Do you really suppose I would be capable of breaking some girl’s heart? That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all year!”

“Breaking hearts is not actually a cause for pride,” she said severely. “And no _sensible_ girl would be in any danger, to be sure. But girls cannot always be as discerning as Charlotte and me. Some poor misguided soul may be fooled into thinking you are a veritable Prince Charming instead of the frog we all know you to be.”

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he grinned. “Well, just for you, Allie, I will strive to temper my devastating wit and charm for the sake of all the girls in the neighbourhood. I’m afraid I can’t do much about my breathtaking good looks, though,” he said apologetically.

“Never fear, you are moving in the right direction as far as those are concerned,” said Alison witheringly.

“Come now, you two,” Charlotte finally broke in, half amused, half exasperated. “The fishermen’s race is about to start.”

“Well, that must mean it’s about time to find my teammates for the gentlemen’s race, then,” said John. “Toodle-oo!”

He waved farewell to his sisters and turned his steps toward the nearest refreshment tent. After a little searching he located Mr Crowe and Lord Babington, fortifying themselves with some stiff drinks in preparation for the upcoming athletic endeavour. Mr Crowe was bemoaning Sidney’s treachery in defecting to the Parker Brothers team at the last moment with Tom’s return the day before.

“Your loyalty to your family is greater than to your friends, that’s clear,” Mr Crowe said dourly, as Sidney smiled sardonically.

“How he has changed,” said Lord Babington regretfully, shaking his head.

“That’s a fine thing for you to say,” retorted Mr Crowe, looking derisively at Lord Babington. “This is the first time I’ve seen you away from your wife’s side in as long as I can remember.”

“Well, to be fair, your memory is shocking,” rejoined Lord Babington with a grin.

Mr Crowe merely grunted at this, as John broke in, protesting, “Surely Sidney is not essential for victory? And after all, how could he leave his brothers in need? That would hardly be fair to them.”

Arthur, overhearing this from where he stood nearby with a large plate of food, coughed apologetically. “Well, do you know, I would have been quite happy to sit this one out, but Tom and I are much obliged to you for releasing Sidney to us. Tom and I muddle along as best we can, but really we’d be lost without Sidney! Particularly given Tom’s weakened state – I’m surprised he’s racing at all, to be frank! I consider it to be most ill-advised.” He shook his head.

“Well, I wouldn’t have minded sitting this one out either,” said Mr Crowe regretfully. “It was not to be.” He took a consoling swig of his drink, then joined the rest of them as they all made their way to the starting point for the race. They passed the crowd of spectators beginning to mill around at the finish line, waiting expectantly to see who would emerge victorious. The clouds gathered overhead had caused Tom some alarm earlier that day, but so far they had merely shielded the crowds from the sun and prevented the day from growing uncomfortably warm, allowing the ladies and gentlemen to parade their finery without the need to resort to their fans to cool down.

They arrived at the starting line to find the other teams already assembled there, divesting themselves of their coats and hats in preparation for the race. John stopped by the workmen’s boat where Mr Stringer stood beside his teammates, rolling up his sleeves.

“I hear your boat is the one to beat!” John said. “You won the trophy last year, apparently? And you have the same team again?”

Mr Robinson grinned back. “Aye, that’s us,” he said. “You heard right. We’re just the same as last year – why would you change a winning formula, eh?” He clapped Mr Stringer on the shoulder.

Mr Stringer looked a little grim – or so it seemed to John – as he replied with a nod, “That’s right, Fred. Best not to meddle with the way things are.”

“Well, we’ll be giving you a good race of it this year,” John said confidently. “ _I_ wasn’t here last time, after all.”

“Fat lot of good that did you in the cricket match,” scoffed Mr Robinson. “Besides, he wasn’t here last year neither,” he continued, indicating Sir Melbourne with a little nod of his head, who was intently performing some stretches nearby to the bemusement of the other men.

“That’s funny,” observed John thoughtfully. “He was nowhere to be found when we needed some rowing prowess to get that confounded whale out to sea.”

“And mess up his fine clothes and hair? Don’t be daft!” snorted Mr Robinson.

No more conversation was possible; the time had come for the start of the race. John nodded farewell to the workmen and went to join his teammates, some of the competitors wished each other good luck, and Sir Melbourne sprang upright again and advanced toward his boat. The men climbed into their crafts, moved into position and took up the oars. A hush of anticipation fell on the assembled crowd, punctuated by the cries of a little child who wanted a better view. The starting pistol fired, and the men were off.

The boats shot forward as one, all keeping pace with each other to start with, the adrenaline and initial burst of energy proving a good substitute for fitness in the early stages. Quickly, however, the workmen’s boat pulled in front along with Sir Melbourne’s craft, with John and Lord Babington’s boat following closely behind. Tom was already struggling, starting to pull more weakly despite his best efforts, and the Parker brothers began to fall behind the rest. Arthur, never one to accept defeat before it was certain, continued to call out encouragement to his brothers, before suddenly falling silent and peering ahead, toward the crowd of people gathered along the riverbank.

“I say!” he exclaimed. “Is it –? No, surely not. But – yes! By Jove! What a surprise!”

“What?” Sidney grunted.

Arthur laughed in delight. “Oh ho ho, you’ll never guess who it is!”

“Who is it?” Sidney asked through gritted teeth as his oars continued to plough through the waves.

“And what timing!” Arthur went on, as if he hadn’t heard him. “Coming now, just when we’re all topsy turvy with the King’s visit and everyone who’s anyone is here –”

“Confound it, man, who is it?” barked Sidney in frustration.

Arthur turned his eyes on his brother, a look of mingled delight and amazement on his face. “Why,” he said, “it’s Miss Lambe!”


	64. Chapter 64

Charlotte stood with Georgiana at the edge of the big marquee erected for the post-regatta party. The heiress’ unexpected return had caused quite a stir, all of Georgiana’s acquaintances eager to know how she had fared these past months, and those who were strangers curious to learn more about such a fascinating addition to their company. Mrs Tattersail, a little, white-haired old lady with shrewd eyes and a merry laugh, had just left them to speak with Sidney, leaving the two friends on their own for the first time since Georgiana’s return.

“I’m so pleased you’re back!” Charlotte said warmly, squeezing Georgiana’s hand. “It’s not been the same here without you!”

“Yes, a good deal more boring, I should imagine?” Georgiana responded with a little laugh. “It’s good to see you too, Charlotte – although I cannot say the same for a certain someone.” She directed a hostile look to where Mrs Campion stood in the centre of the tent.

Charlotte’s smile fell and she said with a little shrug, “Well, let us not talk of that. How have you been? And how were your travels? I want to hear all about them!”

Georgiana looked at her quite seriously. “Eye-opening,” she replied. “In many ways. I think having the freedom to explore a little of the world, and being forced to see beyond yourself, can in turn show you things about yourself you never knew.”

Charlotte looked at her friend, struck by this observation, just as Mary came up to welcome Georgiana. As Mary and Georgiana talked, Charlotte thought about how those words rang true for her, too, though her own travels had so far only extended to Sanditon and, very briefly, to London. Still, one need not necessarily travel to the opposite side of the globe to undergo a life-changing experience. She thought she had never known herself, in some ways, until she came to Sanditon – although she could not be sure if it was simply a process of discovery or also one of change, as the events and people she encountered had shaped her into the person she was now. It was probably a bit of both, she reflected.

Mary was soon called away by Tom, and Alison, in turn, approached hesitantly and asked if she might join them. The conversation turned to Georgiana’s travels abroad, but before long, John strode up with his most winning smile and begged to be introduced. The introductions having been performed, John turned his smile on Georgiana. “Ah, I thought you must be the fabulously wealthy heiress I’ve heard so much about! Delighted to meet you!”

She surveyed him coolly. “And you wasted no time in making my acquaintance, I see, Mr Heywood.”

“Oh, no need to stand on ceremony, Miss Lambe! You can call me John, if you like. After all, any friend of my sister’s is a friend of mine!” he said.

“You may call me Miss Lambe,” she said pointedly. “And I believe friendships are generally two-sided, sir.”

“Generally, yes, but they don’t have to be,” he replied cheerfully. “I can consider you my friend even if _you_ despise me cordially.”

She smiled at this. “I do not despise you, sir; I simply do not know you yet.”

“Indeed, a great cause for pity,” he replied sorrowfully, “but easily enough remedied. And once it is – _then_ you cannot fail to like me.”

Georgiana turned to Charlotte. “I had no idea your brother would be so...”

“Handsome?” interjected John. “Charming?”

“Absurd?” Alison supplied.

“Forward,” said Georgiana firmly.

“I did not realise it either, to be honest,” said Charlotte, gazing at John with one brow raised.

“Well, seeing as I’m only forward in the presence of ladies of exceptional beauty, _you_ would have no cause to know,” John answered her, earning him a slap on the arm from Alison.

“I hardly know how to take such extravagant compliments,” Georgiana said drily. “Being a fabulously wealthy heiress, as you noted, you may be sure I have never been on the receiving end of such gallantry before.”

“Do they seem extravagant to you?” John asked quizzically. “Well, you may have it on very good authority that I never exaggerate – I always tell the absolute truth.”

“Indeed, sir?” Georgiana raised her brows loftily. “And whose authority is that, pray?”

“Why, my own, of course,” John said with a wink.

He was too ridiculous; she had to laugh.

John was given no opportunity to press his advantage, however, as Arthur came up then to enquire whether Miss Lambe had partaken of the baklava yet, and on learning that she had not, bore her away to experience that particular delicacy. Lord Babington, seeing from his position nearby that John was now unengaged, called out for him to join Esther and him to discuss John’s artwork.

“You never told us you could actually paint! You know, that your work is actually quite good!” Lord Babington said humorously. John, never one to let the prospect of a commission go to waste, brightened up and immediately went over to Lord and Lady Babington. “That’s only a taste of what I can do!” he boasted as he left his sisters, just as Alison commented with some apprehension that she was being urgently summoned by Lady Denham. Alison looked apologetically at Charlotte and excused herself, leaving Charlotte all alone.


	65. Chapter 65

As Charlotte stood there a little awkwardly, fingering her glass, some low voices reached her from a small group of workmen gathered nearby.

“I would’ve liked to see His Royal Majesty trying his hand at the rowing – there’d been a sight to see!”

Amid the laughter that greeted this, someone else said, “That’d never happen – the King don’t like to be upstaged. That’s why we had to get rid of that stinkin’ whale – so his royal majesty could be the biggest, smelliest thing in Sanditon.” Stifled guffaws greeted this joke, as a third person joined in, “They didn’t call him the Prince of Whales for nothing!”

Charlotte looked anxiously toward where the King stood in the midst of a cluster of nobles, trying to see if anyone else had overheard this impertinence, but judging from the din in the centre of the tent nobody of importance would have heard anything. They all looked to be far too busy talking themselves, and laughing loudly at what sounded like a steady flow of jests. As she looked, however, she saw Susan detach herself from the King’s side and come toward her with a purposeful glint in her eye.

“Charlotte – here you are standing at the edge, when you have been one of the main forces behind this visit! Come with me, my dear, and let me introduce you to some people.”

“I’m perfectly happy here, Susan,” Charlotte replied as firmly as she could. “Truly.”

“Nonsense!” replied Susan. “There’s no cause for anxiety, my dear – you will be quite safe with me, I promise you. You don’t even have to say anything if you don’t want to. But I cannot have you standing there all alone!”

So Charlotte was reluctantly led, not quite to where Susan had been standing by the King’s side, but to a little group nearby, with two faces Charlotte recognised as those she had sat with at Senora Fiore’s first concert. They immediately welcomed her and quickly succeeded in making her feel comfortable, until somehow, without quite knowing how it happened, Mrs Campion and Sidney had become part of the little group surrounding Susan, and Charlotte’s unease returned. All at once she felt conspicuous and made sure to keep her eyes looking anywhere but at Sidney, although this became difficult on the occasions he contributed something to the discussion. The few times she did happen to glance at him, by some mischance she seemed to catch him just when he was looking at her, causing her to jerk her eyes away guiltily, hoping her expression did not betray anything to the others assembled there. She was suddenly thankful that she had not been obliged to interact with Sidney in front of Mrs Campion until now.

Aside from Charlotte’s inner turmoil, the conversation continued easily enough, until a particularly loud laugh from the workmen at the fringe of the tent caused Mrs Campion to wrinkle her nose with distaste and say to Sidney beside her, “Honestly, my dear, I understand why you felt you had to include the lower classes in this celebration, given their participation in the races today, but it is most unfortunate! It does rather lower the tone, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I haven’t noticed any untoward behaviour,” Sidney replied. “Besides, they’re mostly keeping to themselves,” he observed.

“Yes, but we can still see them. And hear them. They clearly are not accustomed to being in the presence of royalty.”

“Well, they can hardly help that,” said Susan reasonably.

“Oh, it’s not that I blame them!” Mrs Campion exclaimed earnestly. “They cannot help that, any more than they can help their … inferior intellect, or their vulgar way of speaking. It’s in their blood, after all. We cannot _all_ be high-born, of course.”

“There are not many among the gentry either who would be accustomed to being in such exalted company as we have here tonight,” Charlotte said, goaded into speaking up.

“Ah, you are right, of course, Miss Heywood!” said Mrs Campion, flashing a smile at her. “Why, I know of some gentlemen – and ladies too! who would actually be more comfortable mixing with members of a lower station than those of their own class!” She laughed. “So perhaps it’s just as well the workmen are here, after all – perhaps it may help some among us to feel more at home.” She fixed her eyes on Charlotte as she said this, her meaning abundantly plain to Charlotte.

“That’s true,” Sidney spoke up from beside Mrs Campion. “You grew up in a backwater yourself, didn’t you, Eliza?”

Her eyes snapped at him, a look of fury on her face as laughter rang out from the group, before it was just as swiftly replaced with a smile as she joined in the laughter. “Oh, Sidney – you are wicked!” she rebuked him playfully. “How you love to jest! You make me sound like quite the country girl! Forever surrounded with farmhands and shopkeepers without another equal around for miles!” Her eyes turned once again to Charlotte. “Miss Heywood – you must know what that’s like: to be unable to escape your social inferiors when you all live together in a little village. Is that why you get along so well with the foreman? I’m sure I’ve seen the two of you engaged in close conversation any number of times!”

“I would consider Mr Stringer to be a good friend of mine,” Charlotte replied with some defiance.

“Indeed! Well, I commend you, my dear – I don’t think I could put up with that type of company for very long myself. So rude and uncouth!”

Charlotte kept her anger under tight control, instead feigning consideration of what Mrs Campion had just said as she tilted her head to one side and said contemplatively, “Oh, I don’t know. It is true that those considered lower in station may be more direct and their manners may be less refined, perhaps. But in my experience, I have found that those of noble birth are capable of being just as uncivil as anyone else; they merely couch it in politer language.”

Quite unexpectedly, for she had not even known he was there, the King gave a bark of laughter from beside her. “Have you been to court yet, Miss Heywood?” he enquired.

Charlotte was taken aback. “No, your Majesty.”

“Oh,” he said. “It just sounded as though you were familiar with it. Never have I come across a set of people capable of using so many words to say so little, or wrapping a deadly insult in so many layers of sugared language it could almost be a compliment. Though some may say my tastes are extravagant, I’ve always been fond of plain speaking. What’s the use of being fluent in seven different languages if you cannot say what you mean in even one of them, eh? Now, there was a fellow at court for a number of years …” And so harmony was restored, at least on the surface of it, as the King launched into one of his diverting tales, which Charlotte was now privileged enough to hear in full, rather than in snatches drifting down from the other end of a table.


	66. Chapter 66

A little while later, while the festivities were still in full swing, a slight figure slipped out from among the crowds and made her way silently to where some of the boats were pulled up a little distance from the tent. Here the night breathed quietly; here she could feel the cool breeze and make out the gentle sounds of the river, though the relative peace here was still frequently disturbed by some outburst or other from the revelries nearby. She stopped, exhaling with relief, and lifted one hand up to wipe across her brow, before a cough behind her made her whip round in alarm to see Mr Stringer moving slightly into a patch of moonlight, from where he had been indistinguishable from one of the dark shapes of the boats.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, miss,” he said apologetically.

“Oh – I didn’t realise there was anyone here,” said Georgiana, hastily.

“Don’t feel you need to leave on my account, miss,” replied Mr Stringer morosely. “I can understand the need to get away.”

“Oh – well … yes, I did rather feel the need to get away from polite society for a little while,” said Georgiana with a grimace. “I fear I need to adjust again to being in such a small town.”

Mr Stringer laughed humourlessly. “No danger of finding any polite society here, don’t you worry,” he said bleakly.

Georgiana frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked with her usual directness, though not unkindly.

Mr Stringer shrugged in resignation. “Just what it sounds like,” he replied. “I don’t belong in there. No use in pretending I do.”

She paused, then demanded, “Did someone tell you that?”

He jerked his head in assent. “A couple of nights ago. Although not to my face.”

She raised her brows. “Only once!” She snorted. “You should consider yourself fortunate.”

He looked at her as realisation seemed to dawn on him as to whom he was talking to. He shook his head. “No doubt there’s been other times too, and I was too blockheaded to pick up on it.”

“Highly likely, I should say,” she said derisively. “You are a man, after all.” There was a little pause, then she asked, “So what do you plan to do about it?”

He shrugged again. “What is there to do? Just accept it, of course. Don’t try to fit in where I’ve no business being. It was foolish of me to ever try.”

She considered him. “Perhaps it was foolish of you. You could give up, of course. That would be the easiest course of action. And the most cowardly.” He looked up sharply as she tilted her head to one side, her arms folded, and asked him, “Answer me one question, Mr Stringer. Do you believe we were all created equal in the sight of God?”

He stared at her. “Yes, miss.”

She shrugged. “Well, then, perhaps it is the ones who insulted you who were foolish.” She made to go, then stopped, sighed, and turned back, facing him fully. “If you want my advice, Mr Stringer, or even if you don’t, the best thing I can say to you is to ignore what they said and accept who you are. Embrace it, even. There’s no use in trying to be someone else; people will see right through you. The colour of your skin, the way you speak – they will always know. And whatever you do, it will never be enough to please some people. So why even try?”

“Why indeed?” he said with a humourless laugh.

“But that doesn’t mean you just give up,” she said in exasperation. “If there’s something that you want, you need to fight for it. I’ve spent so much time being bitter about things I was powerless to change – like what others thought of me. I’ve realised you cannot change what other people think of you, but you can still succeed without them – in spite of them, even.”

“Are you saying it doesn’t matter what others think?” he asked cynically.

“No – of course it matters. People like us do not have the luxury of pretending it doesn’t. But not _everyone’s_ opinion matters. The important thing is what key people think of you. Recognise those who are on your side, and those whose good opinion is actually worth something, and pay no heed to the rest.” She gave a little laugh. “If you can.” He gazed at her solemnly, and she looked back and gave an indifferent shrug. “Or you could continue with your original course of action. It makes very little difference to me.”

With that, their conference was at an end, and she returned to the noise and activity of the tent, leaving Mr Stringer deep in thought.


	67. Chapter 67

It seemed a particularly long, silent carriage ride back to the town that night; Eliza was evidently not in the mood for idle chitchat, and Sidney found he could bear the deprivation tolerably well. It was not until they had nearly reached her lodgings that Eliza suddenly spoke up, her voice cold and hard.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight, Sidney. I don’t know what you thought you were doing – were you _trying_ to make me look ridiculous? Trying to embarrass me in front of all our friends, let alone the King himself?”

He looked at her and smiled sardonically. “It seemed to me that’s what you were trying to do to Charlotte.”

She turned on him. “Of course you would care about her! Well, she does not need my help to look ridiculous. Lady Worcester’s misguided attempts at thrusting that girl into high society merely serve to show how shockingly gauche she is. No, she does not require any assistance from me to make a fool of herself. But I shall not permit you to make a fool of me, Sidney. I cannot endure being an object of mockery.”

She seemed to expect some response, but Sidney merely regarded her silently. The carriage stopped outside her apartment, and he came around to assist her down.

“Have I made myself clear?” she snapped.

He paused for a moment, then said in a neutral tone, “Abundantly.”

Somehow his response seemed to enrage her further rather than appeasing her. “Sidney – you are severely testing my patience, you know. I have borne a great deal from you, but you had better be careful – I don’t know how much more of your behaviour I can tolerate!” So saying, she swept away from him with her head held high.

**END OF EPISODE SEVEN**


	68. Episode Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I reached the start of episode eight, I still had a LOT of material to fit in; more than I had planned. So this one is a monster episode!

**EPISODE EIGHT: The Ball**

It was the night of the midsummer ball. They seemed to have chanced upon a hidden world, one caught in a state of perpetual twilight; hundreds of candles filled the room with a soft glow, lending a delicate sheen to the gowns worn by Charlotte and Alison while setting Georgiana’s dress alight with thousands of tiny sparkles. A colourful array of sweet-smelling flowers was set around the room, filling the air with their fragrant aroma and adding to the heady atmosphere. This was the final event of the King’s visit and they wanted the evening to be unforgettable – and not for any of the same reasons as the previous year’s ball.

Charlotte, Alison and Georgiana stood with Mrs Tattersail to one side of the room, looking on politely as Tom proclaimed a loud welcome to the assembled company with more pomp than was usual even for him. He still looked pale and rather gaunt, but if they had thought he might consent to remain in the background for the sake of his health they clearly did not know him well enough.

Lady Denham was seated at one end of the room with Esther to keep her company and Lord Babington to wait in attendance on them both, and the room was once again filled with personages of such illustrious rank that these two ladies and a lord were merely three nobles among many.

Charlotte caught sight of Sidney among the crowds of people – Mrs Campion by his side, as always – and wondered if the events of this night a year ago were pressing as heavily on his mind as they were hers. So much had happened that night; the evening had begun with such optimism, the future just beginning to crystallise into a vision of love and intimacy, only to be shattered before it was fully formed by the ruinous events that had followed. As she cast her thoughts back over the last few months, she was obliged to admit that she had singularly failed in her resolution to move on from the events of the previous summer. Sidney Parker still dominated her thoughts, filled her dreams and stirred her emotions the way no one else ever had. If anything, the time that had passed since his unexpected return had only confirmed and strengthened the hold he had over her heart, despite the futility of her continued attachment.

But it could not continue. She looked down at her gloved hands and made a new, silent resolution: when she left Sanditon at the end of this season, she would never again come back. All her time spent with Sidney was only ever an interlude between goodbyes; but this goodbye would be the final one. It was time to make a clean break with the past.

She was startled out of her thoughts by Mrs Tattersail greeting John, who had come up and now greeted them all with his customary good humour before soliciting Georgiana’s hand for the upcoming dance. Charlotte watched Georgiana as she was led away, noting her smile and her new air of calm, though her chin had lost none of its determination and her eyes none of their fire. Charlotte turned impulsively to the old widow beside her and said, “Georgiana’s travels appear to have done her such good, Mrs Tattersail! She seems so much more … I don’t know … settled, somehow, since her return.”

Mrs Tattersail smiled back at Charlotte, her eyes twinkling. “It’s funny, isn’t it – how that is the effect extensive travelling can produce?” She looked away at Georgiana, regarding her fondly. “She’s a remarkable young woman, really – quite wonderful in many ways – but she was stifled and isolated here, before she and Sidney came away with me. She needed to feel that someone was on her side, rather than the world arrayed against her. To feel as if she were in control, at least a little, instead of a leaf blown about in the wind.” She nodded wisely. “She’s had a challenging life – I don’t think we can ever fully understand how it has been for her. But I do know this much: it’s very difficult to heal if the same old wounds are continually reopened. Sometimes getting away is the only thing to be done.”

Charlotte stared at her, wondering if the old lady had somehow read her own mind. But Mrs Tattersail’s eyes still followed Georgiana absently as she moved across the floor with John, and she continued, “And sometimes there are things there is no getting away from – things we just have to learn to live with.” Now she turned and smiled again, fixing her keen eyes on Charlotte. “I do hope she will be able to learn to live here again, more happily now. I expect so: she’s shown herself to have a good head for the business side of things, so I’m confident she will be able to manage her affairs competently when she comes of age. She will have to deal with people’s prejudice against her, of course, and I don’t know if that will get any easier with time … but on the other hand, as I’ve told her many a time – you should never underestimate the power of being underestimated!” Mrs Tattersail nodded emphatically. “In any case, I’m sure it will be a great help coming back to such a good friend! Although –” she crinkled her brow as she bethought herself of something – “you are only here until the end of the season, aren’t you?” Charlotte nodded and Mrs Tattersail tutted regretfully. “Ah, it’s a shame. Still, perhaps you shall see each other in the future.”

“I hope we may,” replied Charlotte earnestly, but Mrs Tattersail’s words had awakened a new sadness within her, this time for the loss of her friend, for she did not think it very likely that she would see Georgiana again once she went back to Willingden. A permanent goodbye to Sanditon would mean the end of so many dear friendships, and she would never be able to give the real reason for her refusal of any future invitations to visit.

“Ah well, if you’ll excuse me, my dear, I hear this is the King’s last night here in Sanditon, and I would like to see if I can be presented to him before he leaves,” Mrs Tattersail said, giving Charlotte a mischievous wink and departing on her mission with a sprightly step that belied her frail appearance.


	69. Chapter 69

From where she stood next to Charlotte, Alison gazed out at the sea of faces around her, only half listening to what Charlotte and Mrs Tattersail were saying. She sought one face among the crowd, but it eluded her. She thought she had prepared herself for this eventuality, but her treacherous heart revealed the secret hope it had been harbouring by the deflation she now felt. His absence should come as no surprise to her, after all: he had looked so grim at the regatta, and she had seen him only briefly at the party afterward before he had disappeared. Their one interaction since the concert was still that curt, awkward encounter at the regatta that not even the most determined optimist could regard as hopeful. Well, there was nothing to be done – she must simply enjoy her evening as best she could in the present company.

As she formed this salutary resolution, the youngest Parker brother approached her and said in his endearing way, “Miss Alison! You look like you could use some cheering up. Would you care to join me on the floor? I can think of no better way to lift the spirits than a jolly jig – what do you say?” He grinned at her and she smiled back, accepting his invitation gratefully as they went together toward the dance floor.

“So! Miss Heywood – you’ll be eager to see the last of the royal party, I expect? You’ve been so busy, haven’t you? I don’t know how you cope with it! I find I can only manage short bursts of high energy at a time – any longer leaves me quite exhausted, I’m sorry to say.”

“I confess, it will be a relief to be back to normal,” she replied. “We’ve had so many social functions over the last few days, it will make a welcome change to have no fixed engagements for a little while. And you, Mr Parker – are you looking forward to a less frenetic pace of life?”

He grimaced humorously. “Indeed I am, but I’m afraid I’ll have to wait a little longer to experience it! I will be leaving for London tomorrow on some business matters, and I do not expect to be back for some days!”

“Oh!” She was surprised; his artless, boyish manner seemed at such odds with the role of businessman. “Is it your newspaper business?” she asked, remembering something he had mentioned in the past.

“That’s the one!” he beamed. “Dreadful timing, having to head off straight after the King’s visit, but such is the price to pay for success in the world of commerce and trade!” He shook his head sorrowfully, a helpless victim of the harsh slavemaster he had unwittingly subjected himself to.

Alison was not sure if sympathy or laughter was the more appropriate response, but it did not matter; the dance began then, and as it was a lively number no further conversation was possible. She found that Arthur had been right about the inspiriting quality of dancing as they skipped and twirled in time to the music; it was simply impossible to remain downcast when the movements were so energetic, the music so animated, her partner so merry. She found that she was enjoying herself as she danced the next few sets; there seemed to be no shortage of partners, and she was glad to see Charlotte dancing too, a happier expression on her face than she had worn earlier tonight. After all, as Arthur had said, what better diversion for a sore heart was there than some vigorous dancing: filling your mind only with the music, the rhythm and the steps that came next. It was a welcome reprieve, even if only a temporary one.

She curtsied to her latest partner as the dance came to an end and made her way over to where Charlotte stood fanning herself on one side of the room. Alison followed suit, glad for the chance to recover her breath, as the dancers on the floor began the next number.

“Just look at all the fine lords and ladies,” Alison remarked, surveying the dance floor. “I’m surprised we have managed to find partners for all the dances so far with so many elegant women here.”

“I think there are more men than women tonight,” Charlotte responded with a smile, and nodded significantly toward the door. “And look – there is one more.”

Alison turned and immediately saw him: Mr Stringer, standing by the entrance, tall and handsome in his formalwear. She felt a bolt of pure delight course through her at the sight of him. He had come! And he had come prepared to dance, judging by his attire. What did this mean – was there still hope then, after all? Oh – but he was looking their way; she must not stare. She hastily looked away, but a quick glance soon showed that he was moving in their direction, as if in response to her mental summons. She tried to suppress her rising nervousness and to appear unconscious of his approach, and signally failed at both her aims.

He came to a stop in front of them. She gave him what she hoped was a casual smile as her heart thudded in her chest. He nodded and smiled at Charlotte, greeting her in his friendly way, before turning back to Alison and saying a little hesitantly, “May I have the honour of this dance, Miss Alison?”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she could not restrain a smile of sheer joy from lighting up her face as she gazed back at him. “Yes!” was all she could manage, and he led her away toward the dance floor, though it seemed to her as if she were floating on air. If she had thought the evening enjoyable already – now her happiness was complete.


	70. Chapter 70

Charlotte smiled to see her sister being led away, Mr Stringer looking earnest and hopeful while Alison followed demurely enough, though she wore a little smile and a faint blush adorned her cheeks. Then Charlotte caught sight of Sir Melbourne close by, scrutinising her through his odious quizzing glass, and her smile disappeared. He began to make a purposeful beeline toward her – or as purposeful as his slightly swaying gait would permit, for he was obviously significantly worse for wear from the drink flowing freely tonight. Her stomach sank at the prospect of being obliged to stand up with him for a dance and she attempted a retreat, but the press of people prevented her getting far before he was at her elbow, a gleam in his eye as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Miss Heywood – we are engaged for this dance, I believe?” A familiar voice sounded from behind her, rich and deep, and she turned to see Sidney Parker regarding her with a knowing look, his lips curved in a little smile. She was too relieved at being spared from dancing with Sir Melbourne to do more than smile thankfully and nod at him. Sidney held his hand out to Charlotte as he bestowed a perfunctory smile on Sir Melbourne, who shut his mouth and bowed abruptly before turning away in irritation, in search of another victim.

“I confess, I cannot recall you soliciting my hand for this dance,” she murmured as she slid her hand into his, and he began to lead her onto the dance floor.

“It must have slipped your mind,” he said gravely, then crooked an eyebrow and asked, “Or would you rather be dancing with him?”

“Hardly,” she replied, with feeling.

“Well, then,” he smiled.

Charlotte caught a glimpse of a pale face from the other end of the room, eyes intent on them, and said quietly, “Your fiancée is watching.”

“So let her,” he replied indifferently. “We can consider this a celebratory dance, Miss Heywood, at the success of the King’s visit. We seem to have pulled it off, wouldn’t you say?”

Charlotte smiled, but replied, “I would be wary of making any pronouncement on the success or otherwise of his visit before it is completed – given everything that happened last year.”

And suddenly, through her careless words, the events of that fateful day a year ago crowded in upon them, lying heavy in the space between them as they gazed at each other mutely. But the music had begun for the dance: a slower, more restrained piece after the energetic tunes earlier that evening; and no more words were necessary.

The couples around them moved together to start the dance as Sidney and Charlotte stood there a heartbeat longer. Then his eyes drew her in even as his hand led her closer, and they gracefully began to step together in time to the plaintive melody. The music rose as the dance began in earnest. She placed one hand lightly on his shoulder and glided smoothly along the floor as his hands held her carefully, gently but surely guiding her through the movements of the dance. His gaze was locked on hers, steadfast and true.

Her world seemed to have reduced to this little circle the two of them inhabited, the rest of the room faded to a distant memory. She had nearly forgotten how it felt to dance like this, each in perfect harmony with the other, feeling as if they were each but extensions of the one whole. Their eyes barely moved from each other as the music bore them along, and when the steps of the dance separated them they sought each other again immediately, as if inexorably drawn back together.

And somehow, in the space of a few minutes, the feelings repressed for so long rose again and threatened to consume her, to spill over and sweep away all before them. But the music was dying, the last few notes solemnly proclaiming the inevitable end of the dance, and the two of them stepped back slowly, reluctantly, as reality intruded once more, and brought with it the recollection of all the things that kept them apart.


	71. Chapter 71

On the other side of the room, Mr Stringer led Alison off the dance floor and back into the crush of people, staying close by her side, apparently just as happy as she was to remain in each other’s company a little longer. She smiled at him as he procured a drink for them both, but before she could speak Arthur appeared beside them, greeting them merrily as he helped himself to some more wine.

“I say, Miss Heywood – I see the dancing has done you good!” he exclaimed, grinning at her. “You look quite radiant! And Mr Stringer – I hear you may be looking forward to a number of commissions in the future?” Alison looked at Mr Stringer in surprise, who smiled self-deprecatingly and shook his head as Arthur continued blithely. “Some of the visitors have been most impressed with what they’ve seen of the building work! And very vocal about it! You may be a very busy man once their admiration translates into offers of work, I should think!”

“I’ve a couple of pieces of work to finish off first before taking on any more,” replied Mr Stringer levelly.

“Oh yes, of course,” said Arthur, nodding solemnly. “You must take care not to work too much! I’ve learned that the hard way: I have been exerting myself far beyond what is wise recently and my health has suffered most grievously as a result. My poor sister is in quite a state about it. Oh well –” He raised his cup at Mr Stringer. “Just as well we have reprieves like this from our labours! There’s nothing like a good dance and a drink to give us a well-earned break, wouldn’t you say? And – speaking of drink – what do you make of this wine? Why, most hosts bring out the best drink first, but I could swear this stuff is only getting better as the evening progresses!”

“How much have you had, Mr Parker?” asked Alison with some concern.

“Oh, well, Dr Fuchs has been telling me I must cut back, so this is only my seventh cup tonight – or is it the eighth?” He frowned in concentration for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, no matter – what’s a ball for if you cannot indulge a little bit, hey?” He waggled his brows at them, then froze as he beheld someone behind them. “Speaking of Dr Fuchs – if you’ll excuse me, I must away: I am engaged for the next dance!” And he hurried away, calling for Miss Lambe.

\---

Charlotte walked silently off the dance floor with Sidney, the only contact between them now her hand resting lightly on his arm; then Sidney turned to her a little diffidently. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked in a low voice, evidently noting her flushed cheeks and shortened breath.

“Yes, please,” she said thankfully, and he bowed, turned and left.

Charlotte stood where Sidney had left her, focusing on breathing deeply and slowing her heartbeat, determined to regain mastery of herself. Barely had he left her side, however, before a familiar voice sounded behind her, speaking quietly but clearly, the words intended for her ears alone.

“Why, Miss Heywood, here was I putting you down as a simple country chit – I have underestimated you, I can see that!” said Mrs Campion, as Charlotte turned to face her, aware of her lingering blush. Her foe regarded her with a fixed smile, but there was not a trace of warmth in it. “That was a pretty dance – very pretty indeed. No doubt you were used to being the belle of the ball at all the dances in your little village back home? Although I doubt you were used to having such a fine man for a partner?” Mrs Campion’s eyes flashed a challenge. “He is very handsome, is he not?” she went on, looking in the direction he had gone. “Do, pray, remember he is engaged to be married – one could almost suppose you to have forgotten it from the way you were staring at him!” She laughed – a fine, melodious laugh. “But he’s not yours, of course – and he never will be. You would do well to remember it, rather than making such a spectacle of yourself in front of everyone.”

Charlotte felt her cheeks flame anew as Mrs Campion gazed back at her with an expression of mingled contempt and satisfaction. “I do remember it, Mrs Campion,” she replied, very quietly. “You always make quite sure of that.” Then she turned and fled, making for one of the little rooms off the main hall just as Sidney approached with a drink in his hand, his expression changing abruptly to a look of concern as he beheld her face.

She found a private little room, screened by a heavy curtain from the press of the crowd beyond, and stood by the open windows there to feel the welcome breeze against her flushed cheeks. Her mind was filled with confusion, her feelings in a state of disarray; to be filled with all the sensations of being held, once again, in Sidney Parker’s arms, only to be wrenched back into harsh reality by the hostile confrontation that had followed – it was all too much. She closed her eyes and focused on the sounds she could hear to calm herself: the violins playing the distant melody; the muted hum of voices; the rhythmic thudding of feet on the floor. She had not been standing there long, however, when a new sound reached her: that of the curtain being drawn back, followed by the heavy tread of someone entering – the unmistakeable announcement of an intruder.


	72. Chapter 72

Sidney saw Charlotte as she fled from Mrs Campion, her eyes averted, her face ablaze. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” he said hurriedly, making to follow Charlotte, but he found one of his arms claimed by Eliza, holding him back.

“Let her go, Sidney,” she ordered him quietly. “Remember who it is you’re engaged to.” She kept a pleasant smile on her face, mindful as ever of avoiding a scene, but there was a dangerous light in her eyes as she looked at him.

Sidney gave her a hard look in return. “As if I could forget,” he said grimly, disengaging her hand from his arm and turning to continue his pursuit of Charlotte’s fleeing figure.

Her eyes widened at this overt rebellion, and she grasped his arm again. “Think of your brother,” she said in an urgent undertone. “Are the hurt feelings of one country girl really worth jeopardising his entire future for, and that of his family?” Sidney stilled under her touch and she pressed her advantage. “It’s not your place to comfort her, Sidney – it never has been.”

He turned back to her, but before he could speak the King himself suddenly appeared beside them, heartily congratulating them on the pleasant evening and rambling on in a way that suggested he, too, had been helping himself liberally to the drink on offer tonight. Sidney smiled back tightly even as everything within him chafed at the delay; his eyes followed Charlotte over the King’s shoulder and he observed the little room she ducked into off to one side of the hall, as Eliza responded smilingly to the King’s remarks. For once, however, even Eliza was not her usual sparkling self in the presence of a notable dignitary, and soon enough the King moved on again, just as Sidney perceived Sir Melbourne following Charlotte into the little room she had sought refuge in. His brows drew together fiercely; he quickly drained the last of his cup and placed the empty vessel on the tray of a server going past, moving once more in the direction Charlotte had gone. Once again, Eliza stopped him with a restraining hand on his arm.

“Sidney! Where do you think you are going?” Eliza demanded sharply. “You are not still chasing after Miss Heywood, surely?”

“Sir Melbourne followed her into that little room,” Sidney replied shortly, gazing intently in the direction of the room in question.

“What of it?” asked Eliza dismissively. “Surely you’ve seen her flirting with him shamelessly these past few days?” She cast a furtive glance up at him. “Goodness – how ferocious you look!” she exclaimed with a little laugh that was meant to convey her unconcern, but contained instead a note of alarm.

“She cannot stand the man,” Sidney said in a tone of certainty.

“What – a girl like her, impervious to the charms of such a one as Sir Melbourne? I doubt it!” Eliza retorted. “How would you know, anyway?” Her tone conveyed her growing vexation.

“I must go,” Sidney responded, impatient to be gone; with every passing moment his anxiety grew stronger.

“No you must not!” Eliza declared vehemently, moving to block his path, still making sure to keep her voice down even as her irritation gave way to full-blown wrath. “This constant fixation with Miss Heywood must end, Sidney! I will not allow you to go!”

He looked at her as if he had only half heard what she had said, removing her hand from his arm and making to move past her.

“What of your brother?” she asked dangerously. He paused, turning his face to regard her, but still he wore that curiously disengaged expression, as if he were not truly there. He turned away again.

Her anger blazed _._ “It’s either her or me, Sidney!” she hissed with finality, her face a mask of fury.

Finally her words seemed to register. He looked her full in the face, nodded once, said, “Very well,” and strode away with no further hesitation, leaving her standing there, a lone figure on the edge of the dance floor.


	73. Chapter 73

Charlotte turned to see who had entered and her heart plummeted to see Sir Melbourne there. He gave a little bow, an exaggerated expression of dismay on his face. “Beg pardon! I find you all alone!”

She forced herself to smile, and curtsied. “No matter – I was just leaving, sir.”

He was still standing between her and the curtain, swaying slightly, and she could tell from the look of his face and the smell of the fumes radiating off him that he was quite drunk. His bloodshot eyes were regarding her with a dangerous light in them, and a little smile curved his thin lips in a way she didn’t like at all. Her heart was hammering now for quite a different reason.

“But you just came in here!” he protested. “Why run away so soon?”

Charlotte went cold. He had seen her come in – he must have followed her in here deliberately.

“Ah yes, I know your type,” he went on, with a broad wink. “You love to act the innocent and play hard to get, but it’s all a ploy – all designed to tantalise and drive a man wild. Yes, you may rebuff my advances on the surface, but secretly you welcome them. Well, my pretty one, your little schemes have worked to perfection this time! I have long desired a more … intimate acquaintance with you – and what better time than tonight, on such a night of revelry and dissipation? Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same. I simply won’t believe you.” He smiled widely at her, his eyes looking at her with a hungry light in them.

She could not stop her revulsion showing on her face. “You are quite mistaken, sir!” she said with strong indignation, fighting down a growing sense of alarm. This was a public venue, after all – nothing could happen to her here, surely. Yet the room’s exit suddenly seemed a very long way away, and Sir Melbourne seemed very close. “I desire nothing of the kind. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she continued, summoning all the authority she could muster and fixing him with her sternest look, “I must get past.”

He chuckled. “You must, eh? Such a stern little puss!”

She ignored this insult and made to go past him, but instead of moving aside, he moved toward her and grabbed one of her wrists. She let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak and strove to free her arm from his grip, stronger than she would have expected for someone in his inebriated state.

“Unhand me, sir!” she cried wrathfully.

“Why, now,” he drawled, pulling her close with his other arm around her waist now, “What a flirt you are. You’re even prettier when you’re angry! Never fear, my lovely – it’s just a little bit of fun!”

She fought a rising tide of panic as she struggled in his hold, lifting her free hand to beat against his chest in equal parts fury and fear, even as disbelief still lingered that he might assault her in such a public place. She could smell the strong odour of liquor and stale sweat rolling off him as his free hand continued to grasp at her. If he were capable of an attack as brazen as this, who knew what else he might be capable of?

“Get your hands off her!” A furious command came from the curtain and Sir Melbourne’s grip loosened in his surprise as he looked round at the newcomer.

The next instant Charlotte was nearly knocked off her feet as her attacker was wrenched away and sent reeling into one of the walls. She recovered her balance and turned to see Sidney Parker scowling ferociously at the dishevelled figure now sprawling in a tangle of limbs on the floor. “She is not an object for your amusement!”

“Damn your impudence!” Sir Melbourne cried feebly. “We were just having a bit of fun!”

Sidney Parker turned his fierce glare on her, but his tone was quite gentle now as he asked, “Charlotte – are you all right?”

“I am unharmed, sir,” she replied a bit shakily, tears starting to her eyes in the shock and relief of it all. He took two steps toward her and she thought for a moment he might be about to reach out and enfold her in his arms, before he checked himself, stopping abruptly.

She heard an indrawn gasp and a low exclamation, and now she saw that the curtain had been left partly open, and a little crowd was gathering at the entrance of the room, looking on in avid curiosity. Charlotte glimpsed Mrs Campion’s face among them, her lips set in a thin line, her eyes burning with anger. Charlotte turned away, facing the wall as she collected herself and adjusted her rumpled gown, surreptitiously wiping her tears away before smoothing her features as much as she could manage.

Sir Melbourne was regaining his feet with some difficulty, attempting to salvage what remained of his dignity. Sidney strode across to offer his aid but Sir Melbourne shrugged him off, glaring at him. “I do not require any further intervention from you, sir,” he said peevishly. “What kind of place is this where you can’t enjoy a harmless flirtation?”

“I think you have had too much to drink, sir,” Sidney said in tightly controlled tones. “Allow me to escort you out.”

Sir Melbourne straightened his rumpled cravat and ran a hand over his disordered hair. “Damn you,” he hissed. “I can see myself out, you wretched cur.”

Sidney stood quite still, watching as Sir Melbourne pushed himself off the wall and made a fairly admirable effort to walk nonchalantly out of the room. Sidney looked across at Charlotte, a question clear in his eyes, and she nodded to indicate that she was well, though in truth she still felt as if she might be about to burst into tears. Sidney went out after Sir Melbourne, following him to ensure he made good on his promise to depart, and Charlotte followed after him as unobtrusively as possible. The onlookers were now dispersing, there being nothing more to see, and Charlotte took shelter in a corner of the room, safe now in the general crowds of people, all carrying on with the evening as if nothing untoward had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was, for me, kind of a corrective to the assault scene at the beginning of episode 6 in season one - I didn't like how she just brushed it off; I always found that unrealistic. And I can't help suspecting they wrote it that way so as not to diminish her standing as a strong heroine. But I think you can be upset and even traumatised by an assault without it diminishing your strength of character in any way. So, I'm letting her be upset and traumatised, and in my eyes, at least, she's still just as strong.


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now go ever so slightly back in time.

Alison watched Arthur swinging Georgiana round in time to the music, safe from Dr Fuchs’ persecution for the time being, then looked up as Mr Stringer rejoined her from procuring some food for them. She accepted hers gratefully and smiled at him, saying, “I’m so pleased you were able to come, Mr Stringer! I thought that perhaps you were not going to make it.”

A shadow passed over his face as he replied, “Aye, miss, I almost didn’t come.”

Her smile fell; she paused, before venturing uncertainly, “Because of what Mrs Campion said the other night?”

He gave a short, humourless laugh. “That was part of it, at least to start with. But tonight’s also the night my father …” He passed a hand over his face. “Well, you’ve heard what happened a year ago, haven’t you, miss.”

“Oh yes, of course,” she said, soberly.

“And I know he wouldn’t have wanted me here,” he said grimly. The silence stretched out between them; she didn’t know what to say.

Mr Stringer gazed into the distance. “It’s just –” he started, then broke off, shaking his head. “Whenever I think about it, I can’t help remembering the last thing I said to him – words spoken in anger, that I can never take back. If I could only go back, and tell him that I love him … But there are some wrongs that can never be undone,” he said bleakly.

They stood there for a while in silence as she debated whether to speak, wary lest she do more damage in her attempts to comfort him.

He made an attempt at a laugh and said, “I’m sorry, miss; I didn’t mean to come here just to bring you down with all my gloom.”

She gave him a look of compassion, but instead of responding to his comment she asked gently, “Do you think your father doubted your love for him?”

“No!” he replied immediately. “I mean – we didn’t often say it to each other. But he knew.”

“Just as you never doubted his love for you?”

“Never!” His response was emphatic.

“Well …” She hesitated, then pressed on. “I would try not to dwell too much on that last conversation you had – if you can. Try to remember instead all the thousands of little ways you showed him your love for him while he still lived. I would say your words are not so important as your actions, in the end.”

He was looking down at the cup in his hand; she could not tell if her words had done any good, or simply made things worse. Then he gave a low laugh. “I’m sorry, miss – I’m normally a lot steadier than this. You’ve caught me at a bad time these last few days.” He grimaced, shaking his head self-deprecatingly.

She felt back on safer ground now. “Well, those are the very times when you most need a friend,” she said decidedly, looking up at him. “I’m only afraid I’m not being much help.”

He looked at her now and said firmly, “You are helping, miss.”

She smiled at him, and hoped he was speaking the truth. “So what made you decide to come tonight, then?” she asked.

“Well, partly because of what Mrs Campion said,” he said wryly. “You can’t let people like that win.”

She looked over to where she had last seen Mrs Campion, and that was when she saw it: the group of people beginning to disperse near one of the little side rooms, and Charlotte emerging from it behind Sidney, with a look on her face that immediately told Alison all was not well, even as Charlotte’s features remained tightly schooled. She turned back to Mr Stringer, all other thoughts driven from her mind as she excused herself hastily, then quickly made her way over to where Charlotte was standing.

“Charlotte – what’s wrong?” she asked urgently.

Charlotte shook her head. “I’ll tell you later,” she replied, dropping her eyes, her expression sombre.

Alison studied her sister for a moment, then said decidedly, “Let us go back to Lady Denham’s now, then; we have stayed long enough – our leaving will occasion no remark.”

She half expected Charlotte to protest, but such was Charlotte’s distress at whatever had occurred that she assented readily enough. Alison arranged their departure quickly and soon they were making their way out to the carriage. There they encountered Sidney, grimly watching the back of another carriage departing the assembly rooms. He turned, saw them and immediately came over to assist them into their own carriage. Alison thanked him, but his eyes were locked on Charlotte’s as he handed her in. No word passed between the two of them, but what Alison saw in Sidney’s eyes as he looked at her sister made her avert her own eyes, as if in witnessing his expression she were intruding somewhere very private, some space reserved for just the two of them. Then he bowed and stepped back, the driver clicked his tongue at the horses and the two of them were making their way home from what had turned out to be quite an unforgettable night indeed.


	75. Wherein Sidney says "I do" to Eliza

Sidney reentered the ballroom as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to avoid any further confrontations that evening. He was not to be so fortunate. Eliza was waiting for him as he came into the room and one look at her face was sufficient to tell him his troubles tonight were not yet over, though she wore a smile, as always.

“Sidney,” she said, in a voice of ice, “we need to talk.”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “Can it wait?” he asked wearily.

“No.” Her tone was final. “I have waited quite long enough for you.”

She swept ahead of him without so much as a backward glance to see if he followed, into a small room like the one in which the other drama had so recently played out. Sidney clenched his jaw and followed her in. Once inside, she rounded on him, her mask of amiability falling away.

“Well, I hope you're satisfied,” she snapped, as he looked back at her. She lifted her brows imperiously. “What have you to say to me?” she continued. “How could you do it, Sidney – how could you go and make such a spectacle of yourself?”

“I confess I was not thinking about myself at all at the time!” he replied impatiently.

“Well, then, what about me?” she cried. “How could you be so lost to all sense of propriety as to not consider how such a scene would reflect upon me? I’m your fiancée! She’s just a … a silly little country girl!”

He stared at her in disbelief. “He was assaulting her, Eliza! What would you have had me do? Just stand there?”

“Assaulting her,” she scoffed. “Well, you would have seen what you wanted to, of course.”

His brows drew together fiercely. “What are you implying, Eliza?” he asked in a low voice.

“Oh, please, Sidney,” she snapped. “A girl like her, who has no qualms making eyes at an engaged man – who can say what depths she might not stoop to? Are you so sure your feelings did not blind you to the true nature of the assignation?”

He clenched his jaw and turned away, facing the wall, taking several deep breaths. With a monumental effort, he held his anger in check. His voice, when it came, was tightly controlled. “I’m not a simpleton, Eliza. I know what assault looks like. I would not let my feelings blind me to what was going on in front of me.”

She gasped, then cried out, almost exultantly, “So you admit it! You do have feelings for her!”

He gazed back, long and steady, then nodded in assent and said firmly, “I do.” And suddenly, unexpectedly, he saw tears starting to her eyes, before she turned to one side and lifted a hand to her mouth. They stood there for a few moments, as the lively music outside continued to play and the dancing flowed merrily on, all unaware of the tense scene unfolding in this little room.

Then Eliza lowered her hand and said in a low voice, still with her head turned away, “I’ve been wrong, Sidney.” For a moment he was not sure he had heard her correctly. “Oh, I knew you had some feelings for that little milkmaid, of course,” she went on, her tone bitter, “but I thought you would grow out of them. I thought we could just go back to the way things used to be between us.” She paused and lifted her head high. “But that could never be. I was a fool to believe it. Time moves on, of course … and people change. We are no longer the people we used to be. I see that now.”

She looked at him now, in complete command of herself again; she was never one to let her feelings overset her for long. She addressed him in chilly, formal tones. “You realise, of course, that everything is at an end between us now. You made your decision quite clear. I shall be leaving for London tomorrow and will cancel all the arrangements we had in place. You need not trouble yourself with the practical matters of the wedding – not that you ever did,” she said, with a curl of her lip.

He bowed his head as a tide of emotions surged through him: guilt, relief, anxiety on his brother’s behalf, but most of all a growing sense of hope at the new future that was opening up in front of him. He turned to go, knowing his continued presence could not serve any benefit, but paused by the curtain before leaving. “Thank you, Eliza,” he said quietly.

She gave a little, humourless laugh. “That’s hardly what a woman hopes to hear when she’s just broken off an engagement to the man she loves.”

He stood there a moment longer, wondering if he should apologise, or if that would make everything worse.

She gave him an impatient look. “Well, what are you waiting for? Run along then, Sidney. You needn’t worry about me. I’m sure I can find someone to replace you soon enough. It shouldn’t be difficult to find someone better, given your treatment of me these past few months.” She turned away; their conference was at an end.

“Forgive me,” he said. Then he bowed to her back, said, “Goodbye, Eliza,” and silently left the room.


	76. Chapter 76

The next morning Sidney rose early, but any plans he may have had to evade his brother were thwarted by Tom’s voice hailing him as he walked along the passageway.

“Sidney! Come in, man, come in!”

Sidney halted, then obeyed the summons to enter Tom’s study. Tom was standing in his usual place by the mantelpiece, hair rumpled, his face still pale and now with dark smudges under his eyes that suggested he had not slept much last night; but the eyes themselves were as bright as ever. “How would you say the night went?” Tom demanded eagerly. “I would say it was a success overall, would not you?”

“The King seemed to enjoy himself,” observed Sidney in a restrained tone, standing near the door.

“Yes, and all his retinue! They all seemed quite happy to drink and dance the night away,” agreed Tom, absently drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece. “But Sidney, I wanted to ask you about that little disturbance that took place about halfway through the night – when Sir Melbourne left so abruptly. I hope nothing is the matter? That he was not offended in some way?” He regarded Sidney anxiously.

Sidney set his jaw. “We had a … disagreement. He had had rather too much to drink, and was no longer in a fit state to be there. I assisted him out. It is possible he may hold a grudge against me for doing so; on the other hand, he may not even recollect it today.”

His response did not succeed in assuaging Tom’s fears; he ran a hand through his hair distractedly, rumpling it further, and said, “Sidney! Must I remind you that Sir Melbourne is one of Sanditon’s most valuable residents? Had you forgotten that of all the people here, he is the one we can least afford to offend – aside from Lady Denham and the King himself? Why, if it weren’t for his investment this past year and Mrs Campion’s fortune, I don’t know where we’d be!” He took a swig of wine from his cup on the mantelpiece to calm himself. “At least Eliza’s fortune is secure, at any rate.”

The moments stretched out as the two of them stood there. Sidney took a deep breath, then said as gently as he could manage, “I’m afraid we no longer have Mrs Campion’s fortune, Tom.”

Tom whipped his head round, looking at Sidney in alarm, trying to detect the jest in his brother’s face. “Come now, Sidney, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he asked with a nervous laugh.

Sidney gazed back gravely. “I would not joke about this, Tom.”

Tom stared at him, a look of such abject horror spreading across his face that it was almost comical.

“Sidney!” he gasped, holding on to the back of a chair for support. “You cannot be serious!”

Sidney looked at his brother, pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I’m afraid I am, Tom.”

Tom put a shaking hand to his head and lowered himself into the chair he was using as a support. “I cannot believe it – how can this be? How did it come about, man?!”

“She was jealous,” explained Sidney shortly.

“Jealous! Of whom?” cried Tom, thoroughly amazed.

Sidney directed a long, hard look at his older brother. “If you cannot work that out, Tom, you’re more of a fool than I take you for.”

“Well – but – I mean, the whole thing is so preposterous! Whom does she have to be jealous of?” Tom’s face betrayed nothing but honest amazement.

Sidney sighed. “She was suspicious that I harboured feelings for Miss Heywood.”

“Miss Heywood?!” spluttered Tom, half rising from his chair. “Ha! But that is absurd! Sidney, could you not simply allay her suspicions? Go and beg for her to take you back?”

Sidney glared at his brother. “I could not, Tom.”

“But why? Surely it’s all just a misunderstanding – there must be something –”

Sidney cut in. “I cannot allay her suspicions, Tom, because they are true!”

So saying, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Tom gaping in astonishment at his back.


	77. Chapter 77

That day saw the departure of the King and his long train of baggage and officials from Sanditon House, with no one happier to see the back of them than Lady Denham. As soon as they had passed out of sight, she threw up her hands, exclaimed, “Finally!” and promptly retired to her bedchamber under strict instructions not to be disturbed, determined to enjoy her newfound peace and quiet. No visitors were expected and, after the events of the previous evening, neither sister was in a mood to receive visitors, so when Miss Diana Parker made an unexpected appearance in the early afternoon, Charlotte and Alison exchanged a look of consternation.

“I can go, Charlotte – you don’t need to,” said Alison quickly.

Charlotte sighed. “No, it’s alright – we mustn’t give any more cause for gossip than we already did last night.”

Diana was clearly in a state of some distress or excitement when she was shown in to the drawing room – it was hard to tell which one.

“Oh, I’m so pleased to find you in!” she exclaimed once they had greeted her and conveyed Lady Denham’s apologies. “I had the greatest fear you might be out somewhere and then I would find myself quite bereft, for Arthur left for London this morning, you see, and I’m finding myself quite at a loss without him here to comfort me.”

“To comfort you?” repeated Alison, with concern. “Why, has something occurred to distress you, Diana?”

“Oh!” She pressed a hand to her heart. “The very worst! That is what I came to speak of, for I know you left before the evening’s end and will not have heard it.” A thought occurred to her; she turned to Charlotte and said, “Oh, and on that note, I must say it was so unfortunate that you had to witness that disagreement between Sidney and Sir Melbourne, Charlotte! I have heard a dozen different accounts of what it was they were fighting over, but to come to blows in front of a female –! Well, I was mortified! Sidney, at least, ought to have behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner, no matter the provocation from Sir Melbourne. I do not wonder that you decided to retire when you did, my dear! Witnessing a physical altercation like that would have quite overset my nerves too.” She smiled sympathetically at Charlotte, as Alison prompted gently, “But you indicated that something happened after our departure?”

Diana’s smile disappeared and a woebegone expression replaced it. “Ah yes! Something indeed! Oh, it was truly an evening of misfortune and calamity – just like last year’s ball!”

Charlotte sat up straighter in alarm. Surely they would have heard by now if there had been a disaster on the same scale as last year’s fire? “Why, what happened, Diana?”

“I declare, I’m still in shock! I’ve hardly known what to do since I heard the news. I never could have foreseen such a thing.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief before fixing her disconsolate gaze on them again. “Why, Mrs Campion has gone and cried off from her engagement to poor Sidney!”

Charlotte felt her world stop. She gaped at Diana stupidly, unable to breathe, let alone respond, as her mind struggled to process such monumental tidings. Then she felt her heart begin to thud at an alarming rate as a small whisper of hope began to blossom in her chest. Could it really be? Had what she hoped for all this time finally come to pass? Alison cast a quick, amazed glance at Charlotte; she knew what this news would mean to her sister.

“Can it really be so? Are you quite sure?” Alison asked incredulously.

“Oh yes, it’s beyond any doubt – more’s the pity! I heard some rumours of it last night and then Sidney confirmed it to Tom himself this morning. No, I’m afraid there’s no chance of there being a mistake. I could scarcely credit it myself at first! To think that she could throw him over not once, but twice – why, I hardly believed it possible! Not only that, but from what I’ve heard, she’s putting it about that Sidney only wanted her for her money – well, I never! Such vicious lies! Although it’s true that we had put a great deal of hope in this match, and now, without the expectation of Mrs Campion’s fortune, I declare I do not know what is to become of us all. Indeed, I fear we are in a very bad state – Tom especially. It has quite sunk our fortunes. Not to mention the ruin of poor Sidney’s future happiness! Tom is quite beside himself, as you can imagine, and Sidney has taken himself off who knows where, no doubt to nurse his broken heart. Well, I am glad that he is free of her, if this is how she is – she has shown her true colours at the last. And I must say, I knew their engagement was too good to be true!”

Diana continued on in this vein, Alison responding sympathetically, but still Charlotte seemed incapable of speech. Such a whirlwind of emotions was surging through her that she hardly knew how she felt. All she knew was that she must get away.

Alison was looking at her, as if she had just said something to Charlotte that she had missed; Alison said again, meaningfully, “Did you not have an appointment very soon, Charlotte? It must be time for you to leave, I think?”

“Oh – oh yes,” Charlotte said, grateful once again for her sister’s perceptiveness.

“What good timing! I can accompany you back into town,” Diana offered eagerly.

“Charlotte has no appointment in town,” said Alison smoothly, quite truthfully.

“Oh – but …” Diana started, then broke off in confusion, but Charlotte did not wait to see what would be the conclusion of the matter; she excused herself hastily, made her way to the door and escaped out into the cool, cloudy day.


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done to those who picked the cliffs. 😉

Charlotte stood on the cliff walk, gazing out at the ocean, watching the waves crash and spend their anger on the cliffs. It was a summer day in name only. A biting wind coming off the sea cut through her clothes and whipped her hair free of its constraining ribbon, echoing the agitation in her breast even as it soothed her fevered cheeks. She was glad of it; she did not think she could have borne a still day. How could such excitement be contained? It must find release somehow. Elation, relief, trepidation, hope – they all warred within her as she stood, still as a statue, above the roiling sea. The clouds overhead grew heavier, darker, but still she stood there – as if she waited for something.

She could not tell much time had passed when she heard him say her name. She turned, unsure now if she had only hoped he would come, or had somehow known it.

“Charlotte. You have heard the news?” He was standing there at a little distance, looking at her with a look of such intensity it set her blood to fire. “I am freed. Mrs Campion has released me from our engagement.”

She gazed back at him, the swirl of emotions running through her rendering her incapable of more than a nod and a brief reply: “I heard.”

All at once he seemed reticent, unsure; he stayed where he was, glancing away before looking intently back at her as he said, “I could hardly sleep last night, thinking about what this might mean.”

Suddenly the difficulties associated with his emancipation bore themselves in forcibly upon her mind and she wondered for a terrible moment if he had come, as he had once before, without any offer of hope, but merely to confirm their current, joyless separation. She frowned at him uncertainly and asked, “Were you worried about Tom going to debtors’ prison?”

“Tom?” He appeared startled, and gave his head a little shake. “No, we are in a better position now than after the fire last year … I don’t believe it will come to that.” He paused, then went on, his eyes fixed on hers, “I confess it was my own future that occupied my thoughts. And … yours, perhaps.”

“Oh?” She felt breathless.

“Char–” he began, then stopped himself. “Forgive me. Miss Heywood – I know I do not deserve a second chance, after treating you so… shamefully.” He looked away abruptly, as if he could not bear to look at her. “Nor did I have any right to expect you to simply sit around and wait for me.” He paused, and seemed to wrestle internally for a long moment. “But I had to know if you could find it in your heart – if there might be a possibility of a second chance?” He looked back at her now, and she could see the hope in his eyes, shining brightly through the pain that still lingered there. “Not now, but – in the future, perhaps? I can ask for no more than that. Even that is more than I deserve.”

Her heart too full to speak, she could only nod mutely, a smile trembling on her lips. She saw the relief that spread across his face, the warm glow in his eyes. Now he was emboldened to move toward her, striding forward until he was just beyond reach, before checking himself. “As I said – I ask no more than that. That is enough for now.”

“Mr Parker,” she said, her voice shaking with a laugh that threatened to break free from her. “You say that you are not planning on renewing your advances immediately?”

“Yes,” he responded; half a statement, half a question.

“It’s only …” She paused, then continued, almost shyly, “I think I would prefer it if you did not delay, after all that happened last time.”

He laughed shakily, and she could see tears standing in his eyes. “Might I expect a favourable answer already?”

She looked up at him; she thought her answer must be written plainly on her face. “You might,” she replied, still incapable, it seemed, of wiping the smile from her face.

He shook his head. “I have no elegant speech prepared … but then, I have never needed that with you. You can see through any words I may say.”

He took a deep breath, then looked into her eyes, his gaze steady and true. “There is no one like you, Charlotte. I did not know a woman like you could exist.” He broke off and looked away, as if he needed to gather himself, before continuing in a low voice, “Indeed, I thought I was destined for a life of loneliness … until I met you.” His eyes sought her face again. “If you would consent to be my wife, I almost don’t know how I could bear so much happiness.”

She nodded, saying, “Yes, yes,” though he had asked no question; she was so happy she thought her heart might burst. There were tears running down her cheeks now, and she made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as she saw the answering light in his eyes – and then he was crossing the last of the space between them and catching her in his arms, and bending his head to press his lips to hers, in a kiss at once so sweet and so wild she felt she might be consumed by it. Her arms came up, more slowly, to wrap around his neck, holding on to him as if she might drown otherwise – as if he were the only thing keeping her afloat; and he held her tightly, as if the closest embrace in all the world could never be close enough for him. There they remained for some time, lost to the world around them, conscious only of each other. The waves continued to crash below, the wind blew around them, and the clouds passed overhead; but they stayed sheltered, warm, wrapped safely in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will leave them there for an extra day before continuing on with the rest of the story.


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments on the previous chapter - I'm glad it seemed to land well. If it had been a disappointment, all that angst in the rest of the story wouldn't really have been worth it!

When they finally descended from the heights of the cliffs, they walked in silence for a time, as if each was afraid to say anything that might wake them from the dream they surely inhabited. What was between them still felt so new, so fragile; they had each desired it for so long that it seemed nearly impossible for it to be true. Yet here he was beside her, walking so close at times his fingers brushed lightly against hers, sending a tingle down her arm with each touch. And her lips still bore the taste of his; her body still felt the echo of his warmth from the time spent locked in his embrace; and his eyes, which turned frequently now to gaze into hers, glowed with a softness and tenderness, a new joy, that she had never seen there before.

Yet it was no dream they inhabited, and this was brought starkly home by Sidney’s comment as they turned their steps toward the town that they would be best to keep the news of their engagement a secret, at least until closer to the end of the season, to avoid any scandal on the speed with which this engagement had been contracted after the dissolution of his previous one. Charlotte felt a weight of disappointment settle on her, even as she perceived the wisdom of his words. She promised to preserve her silence as best she could, though she expressed her doubts as to how successful it would be – her happiness was such that she thought everyone who looked at her must surely be able to tell at once.

\---

Their plan of secrecy was put to the test immediately upon their arrival in town, where they encountered John, Mr Crowe and Lord Babington loitering outside the Crown.

“Sidney – congratulations!” John called out delightedly.

Charlotte looked at Sidney in alarm, his expression showing he was as dumbfounded as her. It was simply impossible that their happy news should be known already, surely? Unless – a sudden fear that they had been seen on the cliff walk flashed across her mind.

“We heard that you had been freed from your engagement!” John exclaimed as Sidney and Charlotte came up to stand with them. Charlotte gave a small sigh of relief as Sidney’s brow cleared.

“Saved from your impending doom, more like,” muttered Mr Crowe.

“Your brother did not seem to think it a cause for celebration, but we felt sure it must be!” John continued.

“Why, Sidney, you look a new man,” said Lord Babington wonderingly, his eyes shrewdly assessing his friend as a knowing smile spread across his face.

“I cannot deny it,” replied Sidney, smiling broadly in response. “I have never been happier.”

Charlotte’s heart swelled within her to hear the quiet joy in his voice, and she decided she had best depart before giving away their secret. “Thank you for escorting me into town, Mr Parker,” she said, smiling sunnily up at him, as he inclined his head in response, his gaze softening as he smiled back at her. “I will bid you good day now.” She bid the other men farewell and started making her way along toward the shops.

“What a lucky escape,” she heard Mr Crowe say behind her. “Now that you’re free from those shackles, I wager you’ll take care not to throw yourself at the feet of another woman any time soon.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, stifling the laugh that threatened to burst free, and hastened on her way.

\---

The next few days sorely tested Charlotte’s ability to hold her tongue and stop herself from divulging the wonderful news that so dominated her heart and mind. Knowing it would be impossible to hide the news from her sister, they had agreed she would tell Alison, whose reaction was all she had known it would be: unmitigated joy at seeing her sister so happy. Indeed, if not for Alison’s support and having someone to talk with about it all, Charlotte did not think she would have managed to maintain her silence over the ensuing days when they were with their friends and the discussion turned to Mrs Campion’s extraordinary decision, or lamenting Sidney’s bad fortune in the realm of love.

As it happened, Charlotte found her encounters with Sidney himself easier to cope with than she had expected; it seemed she had grown so accustomed to suppressing and concealing her feelings for him that it was not so difficult to keep up the pretence of indifference a little longer.

One person she had no need to tell was Susan, who came to farewell Charlotte before her return to London. Susan took one look at her and exclaimed, “Oh, Charlotte, I am so happy for you!” as she enfolded her in an embrace.

Charlotte felt her cheeks redden as Susan pulled away and said conspiratorially, “Now, there’s no need to say anything, my dear – your secret is quite safe with me. I shan’t breathe a word about it to anyone.” She smiled affectionately at her and continued, “Your eyes always did speak for themselves, you know.”

Charlotte smiled back; she did not try to deny it, merely saying warmly, “Thank you, Susan – for everything! You’ve been such a good friend to me.” Then, mindful of Lady Denham standing at no great distance, she asked, “And how did the King enjoy his visit?”

“Very much!” Susan replied. “He spoke highly of all the entertainment here – but do you know, I believe it was the sauna that clinched it for him! I should not be at all surprised if we were to come back here in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned there's not a great deal more Sidlotte in the story; I'm one of those writers who doesn't really know what to do with them once I get them together, sorry! 🙈 Part of the reason for keeping them apart for so long! 😂


	80. Chapter 80

The only thing that clouded Sidney and Charlotte’s happiness now was the financial distress the Parker family had been plunged into, but this was a weighty cloud indeed; Charlotte could see its shadow in Sidney’s abstracted silences, his troubled eyes, and in her own anxious fears. Tom was alternately sunk in gloom or feverish with activity, Mary was subdued, and Diana suffered an alarming relapse of several ailments as a result of the stress she was under.

Sidney’s assessment of the situation proved to be closer to the truth than Diana’s heightened fears; the successes of the past year had gone some way to improving the Parkers’ fortunes, which, combined with the royal visit just finished, had left them in a better position than they could have dreamed of this time a year ago. Still, it was not possible that a year’s successes should have freed them from the need of Mrs Campion’s fortune, and with its abrupt removal the Parkers’ prospects looked very bleak indeed if they were unable to find another source of finance within the next few months.

Two days after the ball, Sidney came upon Tom sitting quite still in his study, staring off into the distance. Sidney entered the room and took the chair across from his brother, and Tom seemed to come back to himself, stirring in his seat and looking up.

“Sidney,” he said, with uncharacteristic gravity, “is it true that you had no desire of your own to wed Eliza? That you engaged yourself to her purely to save us from catastrophe?”

Sidney shook his head, but it was not a denial. He replied, “I could not let you and your family fall into ruin, Tom. I had to do what I could.” He reached a hand across to clasp his brother’s arm. “And we will think of something to get us out of this predicament too, Tom. Our situation is not as dire as last time; I still have some assets overseas I could liquidate, and perhaps I could –”

“No, it is enough,” Tom replied emphatically, standing up. “For too long I have relied on you to rescue me, Sidney. It is time to face this myself. I am the one who put us in this position to begin with; it is up to me to find a solution.” He tipped back the drink in his hand, a look of determination on his face.

Sidney leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intent on his brother. “There may be some … difficult decisions to make, Tom.”

Tom nodded. “Yes. Yes, I know.” He sighed. “But first, I must ensure that our major investors are appeased. We cannot afford them walking out on us at the moment. I have already been to see Lady Denham; tomorrow I shall call on Sir Melbourne. Then there are a few other investors in London I will go to see forthwith. The bankers can wait for now.”

Sidney nodded slowly. “I will look over the accounts, if you do not object. A second pair of eyes may see something the first has missed.”

Tom nodded distractedly, his mind already elsewhere. “Of course, brother – my accounts are open to you. Be as ruthless as you must – I fear we will require drastic measures to avoid ruin a second time.”

Tom, true to his word, went to call on Sir Melbourne and put his sycophantic skills to good use, succeeding in his efforts to placate that worthy – or at least wealthy – gentleman, before departing for London to try to allay alarm in those quarters. He returned from this brief visit pleased with his efforts, and even managed to hold up tolerably well when Sidney informed him that his family would need to give up Trafalgar House and move back into the old family home if there was to be any chance of making it through this financial crisis.

Mary bore their sudden reversal of fortune with fortitude, declaring that as long as she had her husband and children with her, she would want for nothing. Yet as several more days passed and no new source of finance presented itself, it seemed that perhaps Mary’s husband might be denied her after all; debtors’ prison might not be so easily avoided a second time. Tom may have staved off the creditors for now, and Sidney’s efforts had yielded some short-term liquidity, but still an enormous shortfall remained – and where was the money to come from?

\---

Then Arthur returned from London, whose absence had barely been noted in the turbulent aftermath of the midsummer ball, and there was worse to come, judging by the intensity of the gaze he fixed on Tom as he entered the Parkers’ sitting room, his expression terrible to behold.

“I have the most momentous tidings!” he announced impressively.

Charlotte looked up from where she sat; she had managed to continue finding reasons to visit Trafalgar House almost daily, even since the King’s departure, and was once again treated almost as one of the household. Sidney got up hastily from his seat beside Charlotte’s and moved across to stand by the mantelpiece, as Tom looked up distractedly from his contemplation of the figures in his ledger.

“Please let it be good news, Arthur,” Tom begged. “We cannot take any more misfortunes!”

“Oh, it is!” Arthur said eagerly. “The very best! Why, I’ve come to tell you our money troubles are over! Well – I mean – not completely over, but even so – it’s not nearly so grim as you conveyed to me in your letters!”

A silence fell; Charlotte could see from Tom and Sidney’s faces that neither of them quite knew how to take this grand pronouncement. “That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, though with a faint question in her tone – for how could this be? Had Arthur somehow misunderstood the gravity of the situation?

“What do you mean, Arthur?” asked Tom with a touch of impatience.

“Well, I mean, just what it sounds like,” Arthur replied, beaming round at them all, though his smile faltered a little at the sight of their faces. “I went to see my banker in London as soon as I heard the news, and he has agreed to extend finance to the Sanditon project.”

Again, a blank silence greeted his words. “Based on what?” Sidney asked, his eyes fixed intently on Arthur.

“Oh – well, based on my investments, of course!” Arthur replied, as if it should have been obvious. “I was able to get some of them valued. You remember the newspaper business I was involved in? Well, on that alone I was able to secure a promise of credit up to £40,000. That should tide you over, what with the increased interest in Sanditon after the King’s visit.”

They stared at him in disbelief.

“Surely you mean £4,000,” Sidney said.

Arthur shook his head. “£40,000 was the initial figure. I'm sure I could negotiate further if necessary.”

Tom was gazing at Arthur as if his eyes might start out of his head. “How is this possible?” he breathed.

“How? Well, you'll know that I was talking to Georgiana last year sometime. She mentioned that she was learning about managing her fortune herself, so that when she comes of age she will be in a better position to profit thereby. I said to myself: ‘Self, you must do this also,’ – and so I did. And here we are!” He smiled happily, as if that were all the explanation necessary.

“But how?” Tom asked again, his tone just as mystified as before.

Arthur frowned. “Oh, you mean the specifics? Well, my newspaper – of which I am a part owner – was recently able to purchase our largest competitor, and now, thanks in part to this acquisition, we have the largest readership in all of London. We also recently hired a new editor and invested in a new press, which is able to print more copies faster, and at a lower cost than our competition. On top of which, we have been able to secure part ownership in a papermill in some Nordic country – I forget which – which means a steady supply of paper. Owning the whole supply line means we can ensure a competitive advantage vis-à-vis our rivals.”

Tom sat dumbfounded, Sidney continued to gaze at his younger brother, though now with a newfound respect, and Charlotte felt the dawning of a new hope for all of them.

“Arthur – if this is true,” said Tom, as if part of him still refused to believe, “then you have saved us all!” He gave a cry of triumph, and suddenly they were all on their feet, rejoicing, the brothers embracing, Tom calling excitedly for Mary as he strode toward the door, Charlotte and Sidney gazing at each other in wonderment, Charlotte laughing in sheer delight.

Tom halted abruptly on the threshold, reentered the room and clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he exclaimed, “Arthur, in spite of what people say about you, you are indeed a gentleman and a scholar!” Then, before Arthur could reply, he darted out of the room on his mission to tell Mary the good news, as Arthur turned to Sidney with a puzzled frown and asked, into the sudden stillness, “Sidney - what is it that people say about me?”


	81. Chapter 81

There was now no limit to Charlotte’s joy, and her relief at her friends’ deliverance was so great that she forgot herself while talking with Georgiana a few days later.

“I wonder why Sidney’s still here,” mused Georgiana as they strolled along the beach one sunny afternoon. She cast a sly look at Charlotte as she continued, “I suppose he’s trying to avoid that she-devil back in London – as well all the other young ladies too, perhaps, for now that he is single again and has a brother with such prospects he must be quite a prize on the marriage market.”

“Well, it’s a pity he’s not available then!” replied Charlotte tartly, looking straight ahead, before abruptly realising her mistake. “I mean –” she said hastily, then broke off in confusion, as Georgiana drew a sharp breath and said, “He’s not?” She fixed Charlotte with a pointed look and asked, “Have you some news to tell me, Charlotte?”

Charlotte knew there was no recovery for her; there was nothing she could say now that would fool Georgiana, and indeed she did not want to – such news was too good to conceal for long. She acknowledged the truth of the matter with a guilty smile. “It’s true – we are engaged,” she confessed, and just giving voice to the fact was enough to send a spark of joy through her. “Although we are supposed to be keeping it a secret for now,” she added, with an admonitory look at Georgiana. She thought Georgiana might be irked that Charlotte had not shared the secret with her until now, and that Georgiana’s view of the match between Sidney and Charlotte might be as pessimistic as the last time they had discussed such a prospect. But Georgiana surprised her; she merely exclaimed, “Oh, congratulations, Charlotte!” and embraced her.

“Thank you!” said Charlotte gladly. “Do I take it from your response that Sidney has risen in your estimation over the last year?”

“Oh, perhaps he’s not quite so _very_ bad as I had thought,” said Georgiana, graciously. “Although don’t tell him I said so.” They walked on a little further, before Georgiana continued with an arch look at Charlotte, “Perhaps it’s more to do with the fact that I expect – or I hope, at least – that _you_ may be the one wishing _me_ very happy before too long.”

Now it was Charlotte’s turn to gasp and stare at Georgiana, a dozen different possibilities flitting through her mind. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Georgiana looked back at her as if she were a little slow. “Charlotte – why do you think I came back early from my travels? What do you think has happened?”

“But –” Charlotte frowned. “You said that Otis had enlisted in the Navy!”

“He did,” Georgiana said airily, with a satisfied little smile. “But he fell ill and got discharged. He should be somewhere on his way to London even as we speak.”

Again a little silence fell, as Charlotte’s mind raced over all the implications of such news and landed on the inescapable question: “Does Sidney know?”

Georgiana’s look was all the answer she needed. “You are not the only one capable of keeping secrets, Charlotte,” she said. And so they walked on, Charlotte’s momentary relief at having disclosed her secret completely overshadowed by the secret she had learned in return.


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't let Georgiana's secret come between Sidney and Charlotte, after all that's happened - I wouldn't do that to them. Or to you! They've had enough angst, I think.

Georgiana did not share any further details with Charlotte of Otis’ progress to England, and Charlotte thought it was just as well, for she could not consent to hide anything that might drive a wedge between her and Sidney – not again, and especially not with their new, closer relationship. Charlotte had, after some anguish of mind and spirit, eventually told Mrs Tattersail of Georgiana’s disclosure, after letting Georgiana know of her intention to do so. Mrs Tattersail had listened carefully to what Charlotte had to say, then replied briskly, “Ah! That matter. You may leave it to me, my dear; I will take care of it.”

Whatever Mrs Tattersail’s resolution of the matter, Georgiana seemed to accept it, for she did not seem to hold Charlotte’s course of action against her, despite her initial, vehement opposition to it. Or perhaps that was merely a sign of Georgiana’s growth over the past year – an indication of her increased understanding and maturity.

With that burden lightened, the rest of the season seemed to pass at once too quickly and too slowly for Charlotte: too fast, for she saw Sidney nearly every day now and they must be parted at the end of the season, at least for a little while; and not fast enough, for she longed for everyone to know the news and share in her joy, and because every day brought the time closer when she and Sidney need never part again.

As the days went on, it grew more and more difficult to continue feigning indifference toward Sidney, when everything within her yearned for him; if their conduct around each other did not give it away, she thought it must start to be remarked on how often she and Sidney happened to run into each other: for though it had been Sidney’s idea to delay the announcement, he seemed even less adept than she at keeping up the pretence, intercepting her almost daily on her walks, and gravitating to her side at social occasions as if it were, indeed, quite beyond his power to stay away. Then she would look up into his eyes, as he smiled back at her in that way that made her feel as if they were the only ones in the room, and they would discuss the day just been or their plans for the future, and though they took care to ensure their conversation sounded quite unexceptional to anyone who might be listening, to the two of them it bore a wealth of meaning.

Thankfully there were still balls, sea bathing and all manner of activities to enjoy and distract them as much as possible, until they judged sufficient time had elapsed to make their announcement. Then they revealed the news, and the reaction was everything they could have hoped for; their friends were delighted, overjoyed – though perhaps not as surprised as one might have expected. Arthur congratulated them ecstatically, Mary was moved almost to tears as she embraced both of them in turn, and Diana was struck dumb for a full half a minute, so great was her astonishment. John nodded in satisfaction and said, “I told you he was a first-rate fellow,” as if he had been the one somehow responsible for bringing it all about.

Lady Denham was much more restrained in her response, raising her brows and exclaiming, “Well! Is that the way of it, then? I wish you both very happy, to be sure.” She smiled graciously at them both, before turning to Sidney and saying in a sharper tone, “I must say, though, Mr Parker, you’re a fool to marry Miss Heywood when you could have had Mrs Campion!”

He inclined his head respectfully, but replied, “I beg to differ, Lady Denham. I’d be a fool not to.”

She stared at him. “Well, well!”


	83. Chapter 83

The day after Sidney and Charlotte’s announcement, Mr Stringer met Lady Denham at Denham Place for one of her periodic inspections of the work’s progress. The season was now rapidly drawing to a close, the crowds in the town starting to thin as the weather began to be leached of some of its warmth.

Work on Denham Place had slowed now that the roof had been repaired, new flooring laid, and the painting and paper-hanging had been nearly completed. Household staff bustled about removing dust cloths and replacing furniture as Lady Denham and Mr Stringer stood at a window overlooking the workmen refilling the pond, which now sported a fountain, and had been widened and curved to give a more naturalistic approach to the house.

“Well done, Mr Stringer!” Lady Denham said with one of her rare smiles. “I own I am pleasantly surprised – I did not know if you would prove worthy of the task here, but you have shown yourself to be quite capable.”

He smiled widely back at her – he knew the worth of any praise coming from Lady Denham. “Thank you, my lady! I had the support of the best of Sanditon carpenters and bricklayers, and they've done a fine job. It's not every day that I get to work for someone who knows exactly where to give explicit directions, and where to give me a free hand. It's a real honour to work on such a fine house.”

She acknowledged this with a slight inclination of her head, before raising her brows at him. “And I understand that congratulations are due? That you are to undertake an apprenticeship shortly?”

“That’s right, my lady – I’ll be leaving to start my apprenticeship soon. But I’ll make sure Stephenson finishes up on the balustrade detailing, of course, and then it’ll be up to the gardeners to finish the landscaping.”

“Well, you have ambition, Mr Stringer: I commend you for that.” She grimaced, then continued a little sourly, “It’s good to see someone following through on their ambitions, for once. Take my guests – Miss Heywood has done well enough for herself with her engagement to Mr Parker, but her sister – pah! She has certainly not made the most of her opportunities here, in spite of my best efforts on her behalf.”

Mr Stringer frowned, and said after a pause, “You mean with her sketches, my lady?”

She looked at him as if he had just sprouted a second head. “Her sketches? You think some doodles capable of improving a woman’s situation?” She snorted. “Hardly! I speak of marriage, of course. Miss Alison Heywood’s object in coming here was to make an advantageous alliance – nothing would do for her but a rich husband to establish her in a life of luxury! Unfortunately, she has shown herself to be woefully backward in securing one!”

Mr Stringer’s frown deepened; his interest in the subject at hand led him to be far bolder than he would otherwise have been in the presence of someone like Lady Denham.

“Maybe that’s what people have been saying, my lady, but I’m sure Miss Alison had no such object in mind in coming here – I’m sure she came simply to explore more of the world and to see what Sanditon had to offer.”

Lady Denham barked a laugh. “Oh, she certainly came to see what Sanditon had to offer!” she said drily. “But her chief interest was to see what rich men she might meet rather than the prospect of any sea bathing.” She began to turn away, then bethought herself of something and added, “And it’s not just what _other_ people have been saying, young man – she told me so herself. Her heart’s desire was to secure a wealthy husband – preferably one with a title: I believe those were her very words.” She paused, looking at Mr Stringer with a little frown, as if a new thought had just occurred to her. “You cannot blame her for that, now, can you, Mr Stringer?”

He was looking slightly dazed; he replied mechanically, “No – of course not.”

Lady Denham nodded and continued on, the matter resolved as far as she was concerned. Mr Stringer, however, though he recovered himself sufficiently to be able to complete the rest of the tour, seemed quite unable to banish the frown that marred his features, or to focus entirely on the matter at hand; whatever it was that Lady Denham had said, something had disturbed him greatly – that much was plain.


	84. Chapter 84

Once the official announcement of Sidney and Charlotte’s engagement had been made, the news spread like wildfire throughout Sanditon, and on Charlotte’s next visit into town Mr Stringer was one of those who came up to offer his congratulations.

Alison lingered outside the bakery, covertly watching their exchange, studying Mr Stringer closely for signs of a broken heart as he discussed Charlotte’s engagement. She could not detect any; his grin as he talked with Charlotte looked genuine and unaffected. Perhaps Johnny had been right after all – perhaps Mr Stringer’s affections had changed?

Still, after Charlotte had bidden him farewell and continued down the street, Alison could not stop herself approaching him and greeting him with a little smile.

“You heard the news about Charlotte, then?” she asked, though the answer was plainly obvious.

“Aye, miss, and I hope she’ll be very happy,” he said, looking as if he meant it.

“I hope you aren’t too disappointed?” she asked tentatively, looking up at him.

“What’s that? Now, why should I be disappointed, miss?” he asked, looking at her with a raised brow.

She looked away in some confusion. “Well, it’s just that – I had thought – that is, you were such a good friend to Charlotte, and back home all the boys were always – well, I just thought you might be,” she finished lamely, looking back at him.

“Ah, well, there was a time when I might have been,” he said reflectively, “but I’m not now, truly. I’m just glad she found happiness, and a man that was worthy of her love.”

“It is a very good match,” she agreed happily, relieved to be back on safer ground. “My family is pleased.”

“And perhaps you’ll be next, miss? Making a fine alliance that your family can be proud of?” He spoke in a light, jesting tone, but his smile looked a little forced now, and he coloured faintly as he regarded her.

She reddened, too taken aback to reply immediately. “Oh! I – I don’t know,” she stammered. “I mean … I don’t think my parents have any such expectation – indeed, I expect Charlotte’s match will take the weight of responsibility off me instead. She has married well so I don’t have to.” He nodded with an air of nonchalance, turning his attention to his boots.

“In any case,” she went on, seeking to lighten the tone, “my youngest sister assures us she is determined to marry the King, so that match should set all of us up for life.”

Mr Stringer laughed and looked back up at her, looking more relaxed now. “Perhaps you’ll need to tell her he already has a wife, then,” he said. “That might present a few difficulties.”

“And break her heart? I wouldn’t be so callous! She’ll find out in time, no doubt.”

They smiled at each other in the little silence that followed her remark, before he ducked his head and said with a self-conscious expression, “I’ve some news of my own I’ve been meaning to tell you, miss.”

“Oh!” she responded, a little breathlessly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been accepted for that apprenticeship again,” he said, unable to conceal his pride. “I’m going to try to make something of myself.”

“Oh – that’s wonderful news!” she exclaimed, excitement surging through her on his behalf. “Although … you should say you’ll be making something _more_ of yourself, surely? You’re already a foreman, after all. This is not the first step of improving your position in life, merely a _further_ step. Would you not agree?” She smiled up at him, and he looked back at her in the way that always made her melt inside.

“You’re always so kind to me, miss,” he said softly, and she dropped her eyes, annoyance suddenly welling within her. She wished he would not say that. It made their relationship sound like one of gentle benevolence. That was worse than anything; she could not stand to think that, after all this time, he might regard her merely as a sister or a friend.

“So when will you be starting it?” she asked, a little more stiffly than she had intended.

“Very soon,” he replied gravely, and her heart dropped. “What with Mr Parker’s first lot of apartments completed now and Denham Place nearly all fixed up, I’ll be leaving for London before the week’s out, I think.”

Her heart dropped; she stood there like a fool, looking up at him in dismay.

“So soon?” she asked, and she knew her disappointment must be plainly evident.

“I’m afraid so, miss,” he replied, observing her with an inscrutable expression.

She had known he had applied for the apprenticeship again; indeed, she had encouraged him in his plan to reapply; but it had never occurred to her that he might end up leaving Sanditon before her. She had not realised their remaining time together would be so short. In fact, she had begun to allow herself to hope, from the night of the midsummer ball, that they might not part at all at the end of the season – not permanently, at least. But now this news coming, so suddenly, seemed to spell the end of all her foolish dreams.

A glimmer of hope came to her, her stubborn hope that refused to die: there was still Charlotte’s wedding to come – he was to be invited, she knew.

“So we’ll be seeing you at the wedding then, if we don’t see you again before you leave?” she said, as lightly as she could manage.

“Which one?” he asked with a grin. “Charlotte’s, you mean? Or that of your youngest sister?”

“It will be some time before my youngest sister is of marrying age, Mr Stringer, as I’m sure you are well aware,” she replied with mock severity.

“Aye, miss, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied firmly.

“Good. We’ll look forward to it,” she said, and took her leave of him with a bright, friendly smile and a fairly successful attempt at a look of unconcern.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say a massive THANK YOU to everyone who has read this story and taken the time to leave kudos or comments - it has helped so much not to feel that I am writing into a void! I have really appreciated all the reactions, feedback and encouragement and I'm so grateful to all who have made the effort to read my version of season two. It's not how I imagine the actual season two will go; it's how I would like it to go. Hopefully, though, we will find out at some point how the official season two will turn out for real!

The two sisters left Sanditon a few weeks later, one eager to see their family again and complete the wedding preparations, the other quieter and more withdrawn. The prospect of their return to Willingden did not seem to awaken the same excitement in Alison that Charlotte felt as the carriage set out on the long journey home; then again, the future seemed to promise very different fates for the two of them.

John was remaining in Sanditon for the time being, with the intention of following them home later – he had said he wanted to capture the change to autumn in Sanditon first. He had promised most faithfully to be back in time for the wedding, though this assurance was not greatly supported by him wrinkling his brow directly afterward and asking, “When is it to be again?” Then he had glanced at Alison, as if expecting a rebuke of some sort, but her attention had evidently been elsewhere, and this lamentable lapse of memory was allowed to pass uncensured.

Charlotte sat across from Alison now, noting her sister’s solemn expression, the slump in her shoulders as she gazed listlessly out the window. “Don’t worry, Alison; you can come back,” she said, and Alison started, jolted out of some reverie. “Oh – yes, of course,” she murmured, without any enthusiasm, before fixing her eyes on the scene outside again.

Charlotte’s heart went out to her sister. She thought she could guess the cause of Alison’s subdued demeanour recently, and understood that it was not so much their increasing distance from Sanditon that grieved her sister as their distance from London. She herself had felt the same sense of loss for long enough, though her present happiness was so great it eclipsed her former pain; indeed, maybe, in a way, her suffering had sharpened and even augmented her current joy.

At least they would see everybody again at the wedding. The wedding – just the thought of it sent a thrill of excitement through her veins.

The knowledge of this upcoming reunion had softened the pain of this year’s departure from Sanditon. The two sisters had exchanged fond farewells with all their friends before leaving, with a couple of notable exceptions: Mr Stringer had left to start his apprenticeship a few weeks prior, while Sidney had been called to London on an urgent business matter the previous day. Still, it had hardly seemed to matter that Sidney could not be there to say goodbye; he had made sure to give Charlotte a proper farewell before he left, tender enough to last them until they should see each other again.

And this time, nothing interrupted Charlotte’s journey home: no lone figure on horseback appeared to halt the carriage as it bowled along, back toward Willingden; for she and Sidney knew that their farewell was only temporary, and soon enough he would be hers, and she would be his, and all their times of separation would be but a memory.

So they continued on, and though to Alison the day seemed decidedly grey and dreary, to Charlotte the sky had never been so bright, the birds had never sung so joyfully, and the scenery had never looked so lovely as it did this day.

**END OF EPISODE EIGHT**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can understand if some of you might feel a little saddened by the ending; consider it an homage to the end of season one, if you will. For those who are interested, though, I am planning to post an author's note once I get around to it, sometime in the next few days, explaining some of the reasoning behind the creative choices I made and laying out some of the requirements I set for myself in writing my season two. That may shed some light on the ending I chose. So please don't be disappointed when you see I've posted a new chapter, thinking it's a bonus scene - it will just be some ramblings from me.


	86. Author's Note

Gidday - thank you all once again for reading my story! If you have made it this far, you might be interested in knowing the reasons behind some of the choices I made – some of the requirements I set for myself in writing a season two. If you have any requirements (or preferences) of your own for an official season two, I’d be interested to hear yours, too, if you want to share them in the comments!

Before I begin, at the risk of sounding like an acceptance speech at the Oscars, I would quickly like to thank my wonderful husband, without whom this story would never have been possible. Not only was he my sounding board, editor, researcher, ideas man and even fellow writer for some of the parts I couldn’t be bothered doing myself, but he picked up all the extra housework and other duties I was neglecting in my writing fury and didn’t complain once. Honestly, he was far more supportive than I would have been if the roles were reversed. He is a keeper. Thank you, my darling. 😚

Now, starting with a man nearly as handsome as my husband, here were the requirements I set myself for my season two:

  1. Neither Sidney nor Charlotte could get married to someone else. OBVIOUSLY. That would just be gross. Especially if Sidney’s someone else was Eliza. Ewwwwwwwwww! *tries to mentally block it out*
  2. And yet, there could be no hint of cheating. That would also have been a major ick factor and would have sullied both characters in my eyes. So, not content with the usual societal distance of the Regency period, now the plot demanded an additional layer of restraint: no active pursuit of each other, so all their meetings had to be circumstantial.
  3. No wasting away for either Sidney or Charlotte. Heartbroken, yes, but not wasting away. And no reversion back to his old, destructive ways for Sidney. Charlotte may have been the catalyst for Sidney’s transformation, but I didn’t want her to be essential for his improvement to last. I feel that level of co-dependency is unhealthy.
  4. On the topic of Sidney’s improvement: I also wanted him to learn to control his temper. So no more yelling at our girl.
  5. In season one, we saw the major evidence of Sidney’s transformation in season one when he self-sacrificially engaged himself to save his brother from ruin. In season two, I wanted him to show some concrete evidence of his love for Charlotte – but without a whiff of cheating, of course. So, enter John. Sidney’s befriending of John differed a bit from his paying Otis’ debts in season one by it requiring more than just paying off debts; Sidney had to be willing to actually give of himself and his time. And he did it all without expecting anything in return.
  6. As a more general point, I felt that Sidney’s engagement to Eliza provided enough conflict and drama in his relationship with Charlotte without introducing more. We already had a (sort of) love triangle in season one; I had no interest in creating another. And speaking of love triangles…



Moving on to my favourite man of Sanditon: Mr Stringer! My rules for him were:

  1. No stomping on his heart. He has suffered enough!!
  2. I don’t like love triangles. In fact, I hate them with a burning, fiery passion, and they are one of the reasons I don’t read YA fiction anymore. So, my only interest in love triangles in my story was to try to extricate Mr Stringer from his one as soon as realistically possible.
  3. The most important rule: Alison could not be Mr Stringer’s second choice, or a consolation prize. She had to be first in his affections. The way I felt this could be achieved was making Mr Stringer choose her even while Charlotte was still available. This needed to be obvious to the readers, even if not necessarily to Alison.



If you have any feedback on this, I’d be interested to hear it – and it doesn’t all have to be positive. I can handle your honest views. I think! 😅

Finally, I have a confession to make. You may recall that I said there was a heap of material to fit into episode eight, and there was! So much so, in fact, that I wasn’t able to fit it all in.

Yes, I thought the end of episode eight was a fitting homage to the end of season one, but the end of season one SUCKED, amiright? And if there’s one thing you should have learned about me if you’ve read through my whole story, it’s that I love Mr Stringer.

So I have some extra material: four more chapters that I’ve nearly finished working on – a bonus feature, if you will – and I will post each of them sometime soon. To those who thought the ending was great as it was – sorry! To everyone else – I hope you enjoy them! But be warned: even with these, not everyone will be getting a HEA. ❤


	87. Bonus Feature

**BONUS FEATURE: Reunions**

Not every enterprise that summer yielded a happy result; not every investor could be so successful as Arthur – for where someone’s fortunes rise, another’s may fall.

Sidney had returned from his business meeting in London; he entered Sanditon and rode slowly through the streets, a dark cloud on his brow as he turned his horse toward the lodgings of Miss Lambe. He reached the building and dismounted, then handed his reigns over to the stableboy, moving all the time with a grim purpose, as if reluctant to face the coming meeting but aware he must see it through. He knew Georgiana would not be happy with the news he had to impart, but she could not blame him more than he already blamed himself. He paused for a moment on the threshold, looking up at a shuttered window above him. Then he sighed, clenched his jaw and entered the house.

\---

One afternoon a few weeks later, when the trees were changing to gold, or red, or brown, in one last display of glory before the cold came to strip them bare, a figure arrived in Sanditon. This was only his second appearance there after the ignominious end of his previous visit. Sidney had forbidden this man more than once from ever seeing his ward again, yet it was Sidney who met him and showed him to Georgiana’s lodging, Sidney who knocked at the door where Georgiana waited, and Sidney who left the two of them together as he went to join Mrs Tattersail in a nearby room.

Barely had the door shut behind him than Otis was moving forward, hands outstretched, his face aglow. “Georgiana!” he uttered ardently. “It has been so long! How is it possible that you have grown still more beautiful since last I saw you?” He took her in his arms and pressed her close as she submitted to his embrace, but he immediately perceived that she did not respond with an eagerness to match his own. He drew away, searching her face anxiously as he held her at a little distance, and asked with concern, “Georgiana? What is it, my love?”

She gazed back solemnly and said slowly, as if reluctant to give voice to what she had to say, “I’m afraid I have some bad news, Otis.”

His brows drew together in confusion as he looked back at the door through which Sidney had left. “But Sidney was the one who met me – surely his objections to our match must not be as firm as they once were? If indeed he still objects at all? And in any case – you have nearly attained your majority, when you can be mistress of your own life! And of your own money.”

Georgiana’s eyes dropped. “It has nothing to do with Sidney, Otis. In fact …” Georgiana stopped herself.

Otis’ brow cleared. “Well, as long as there is no impediment to our match, nothing else could matter!” He held both her hands fast between his own, gazing at her adoringly as he said, “Only tell me how long I must wait, my darling! There is nothing I desire besides you.”

Georgiana said nothing to this, looking back up at him gravely. Then she took a deep breath, watching him carefully as she said, “The reason I sent for you, Otis, is to tell you my fortune is gone.”

Her voice suddenly sounded very loud in the deathly silence that followed it. He stared back uncomprehendingly. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“Just what I said. It’s gone. You will have heard about the collapse of the banking sector across the Atlantic? And those ocean storms this summer? It seems disaster has struck wherever my father’s legacy was invested. And now, the one thing I thought I could depend on, my only source of security in the world, has disappeared.”

His jaw fell open as he stood there, listening in disbelief, apparently quite overset by these catastrophic tidings. Then he found his tongue. “You must be joking!”

“I hardly think the loss of my entire fortune is a laughing matter, Otis!” she replied with a touch of asperity.

He dropped her hands and began to pace the room in agitation.

“But this is infamous! How could Sidney have let this happen? How is it even possible for such a vast sum of money to simply … disappear?” He gestured emphatically, then paused in his pacing to face her, more overwrought than she had ever seen him. “You are taking it very well, Georgiana – if it were me I would be furious!”

She frowned. “That is a matter between Sidney and me, Otis. Believe me, Sidney knows exactly what my thoughts are on the matter!”

He resumed his restless movement and carried on speaking, almost as if he hadn’t heard her, “I am of a mind to have words with him myself! Why, of all the –”

“Whatever for, Otis?” she interrupted, with some irritation. “My fortune is not your concern.”

“He must be made to pay!” he burst out. “For this abrogation of duty, this ruination of your future prospects, your future happiness …” He trailed off, turning to face her again. “I don’t know how you can bear it, Georgiana!”

She looked back at him, a curious mixture of misery and hope on her face. “I am able to bear it. After all, my fortune was, in some ways, simply an obstacle – an obstacle that has now been removed. For Sidney has said he will not object to our match any longer.”

He stared at her helplessly, for once bereft of words. The silence stretched out between them.

“Otis?” she ventured tentatively, uncertainly.

“Oh, Georgiana, you know there is nothing I desire more in all the world,” he said fervently, before wiping his hand across his face in a gesture of frustration, “but I don’t see how it is to work! I will not be able to keep you in the style to which you are accustomed – far from it! We will have to scrape to get by; we will be deplored by society; and we will have very little chance of bettering our position in life –”

She cut in. “What if I were to say I don’t give a fig about any of that?”

He shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. “That’s very easy to say, Georgiana – but what about the reality of it? You have never known poverty; you’ve never suffered for want of anything. Without any money, you will be cut off from all your friends, from all you’ve ever known; and doubly cut off from society, what with your impecunity and the colour of your skin; you would be forced to find work, when you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, and as for me –” He stopped himself abruptly.

“Yes?” she prompted, and now there was a note of challenge in her voice. “And as for you?” She paused, and when he still volunteered no answer she continued, “I will not be able to keep you in the style to which _you_ are accustomed, perhaps?”

Whatever he had been about to say, he replied with, “Oh Georgiana, how could I live with myself if I were to give you such a life – if you could call it that? After all you’ve known, how could I be the one to consign you to an existence of toil and drudgery, compared to the opulence you’ve enjoyed until now?”

“Is your situation really so bad?” she asked a little incredulously, then as he looked away, refusing to meet her eye, she said sarcastically, “Not more gambling debts already, Otis, surely?” His head jerked round involuntarily, the guilt on his face revealing the accuracy of her jest, and her eyes widened.

“Otis!” she breathed reproachfully.

He looked at her pleadingly. “I ever was unworthy of the love of such a woman as you, Georgiana, and heaven knows –”

“Please, Otis – enough!” she declared with finality. “No more words!” She fixed him with a steely look. “You always were a fine speechmaker, Otis. But I am tired of hearing of your love for me. What I want is some proof of it.”

“Some proof of it?” he exclaimed, as if unsure whether to be amused or offended. “Some proof? Georgiana, I have never wavered in my love for you – no, I have never even looked at another woman since I set eyes on you. I have stayed true to you all my time abroad; and now I have come back for you!” His eyes were locked on hers, his voice throbbing with the emotion running through him. “I would do anything for you, Georgiana – I would climb the tallest mountain if you asked me to; I would sail the farthest seas if you desired it; I would slay a thousand enemies for you. Do you not know I would die for you!”

A silence followed this outburst, broken only by his heavy breathing as he stared at her in the wake of his emphatic declaration.

Georgiana looked back at him, the sorrow in her eyes undiminished by the speech she had just heard. She replied, almost gently, “But I don’t need you to die for me. All I’m asking you to do is join your life to mine – to take me as I am: penniless and destitute.”

He said nothing, just gazed at her with an expression of sorrow great enough to match her own. No words were necessary, and for once he had none; the answer was written plain on his face.

She gave a little, bitter laugh as she saw how it was to be. “I see. You say you would do anything for me. But this simple thing is too much to ask.”

He shook his head and began quietly, “It is not so simple, Georgiana. You mustn’t doubt my love for you –”

She cut him off. “Oh no, I do not doubt that you loved me. But it was never just me that you loved, was it, Otis? It was me _and_ my fortune. Whatever you may have told me once.”

He shook his head desolately, but all he said, in pleading accents, was, “Do not think too badly of me, Georgiana – I beg you!”

“Think badly of you, Otis?” she replied airily, lifting her chin. “Why, I doubt I shall think of you at all.”

\---

Sidney stopped his pacing and turned as Georgiana entered the room, frowning to see that she was alone. Mrs Tattersail looked up from where she sat knitting calmly in a corner of the room as Georgiana took a few steps into the room and came to a stop. Now Georgiana’s mask of indifference was gone; her desolation was plain for them both to see.

“He’s gone,” she said bleakly.

“Gone?” Sidney repeated stupidly. He stared at her.

“I told him my fortune was gone, and he would not have me.” She barely seemed able to get the words out.

“But Georgiana –” He started, then stopped, confused. “You’ve lost but a small portion of your wealth!”

She looked at him as if he were remarkably obtuse. “I know that, Sidney. But he does not. This was his chance to prove his love for me without my fortune.” She looked away. “And he failed the test.”

Sidney’s eyes kindled with anger, but it was not directed at Georgiana. “Well, then he doesn’t deserve you. You are better off without him,” he said with feeling. There was a long silence.

“I know that,” she said finally, in a small voice. “But it doesn’t feel that way.”

Mrs Tattersail, who had sat silent until now, finally spoke up.

“Of course it doesn’t,” she said firmly. She held out her arms. “Come here, child,” she said and, as Georgiana went to submit herself to the old lady’s embrace, she gave Sidney a stern look that said louder than any words that his presence was no longer welcome.

Sidney stood a moment longer, wishing he could find some apt word of consolation and comfort, before submitting to the unspoken directive and quietly taking his leave.


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen other writers have suggested playlists for their stories, which I think is a great idea! If you would like an idea for a beautiful, if horribly anachronistic, piece of music to imagine Charlotte walking down the aisle to, here is a suggestion: Romance (from The Gadfly), by Shostakovich. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QDW4VJGKLAQ

Sidney and Charlotte did not delay their wedding very long; in fact, although Sidney had previously been perfectly content with a long engagement, he now seemed eager to hasten his wedding day as much as possible. It was conjectured in some circles that this comparative haste was driven by his fear of being thrown over yet again – a reasonable fear, perhaps, considering how unlucky he had been in this department to date. Others thought the haste must originate with the prospective bride instead, that unremarkable girl of unremarkable birth who had somehow managed to capture the fancy of this gentleman of fashion, and did not mean to let him escape from her grasp. Then there were the romantics, who sighed and said dreamily that all it proved was the strength of this attachment, as opposed to the last one. And in this case, despite the scoffs and derision many in this third group received, they happened to be right – though there was no way for them to prove it.

Those who were fortunate enough to attend the wedding in question, however, were left in no doubt as to the accuracy of this last statement. The strength of feeling between the central couple was clearly visible in all the different elements of the ceremony: from Charlotte’s procession down the aisle, such a vision of loveliness that Sidney was visibly moved to tears, ducking his head to wipe his eyes as Lord Babington reached out to clasp him on the shoulder; to the exchange of vows, when even old Farmer Jones was caught surreptitiously dabbing at his eyes, so heartfelt were their declarations of love; to their exit from the church, both faces so filled with joy they seemed to shine with it. Sidney’s eyes, full of a kind of wonder, barely moved from his bride the whole day, while her smile was luminous enough to kindle a spark of warmth in even the coldest of hearts.

As for the sermon, although the newly married couple seemed too taken with each other to give it their full attention, all the guests thought the vicar could not have chosen a more apt passage, as his clear, confident voice proclaimed the wisdom of King Lemuel’s mother:

Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.

The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.

She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.

She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. …

She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.

She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.

Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.

Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.

Of course, there was the unfortunate remark from Lady Denham at some point during the service, who stated in a rather loud undertone that the two of them looked very foolish smiling so much, to which Lady Worcester, sitting nearby, responded by saying rather wistfully, “Ah, but love has a way of making fools of the best of us.” And there was the minor discomfort experienced by some guests that came of sitting quite close to one another; for, in the end, the wedding was not quite the small country affair Charlotte had envisaged. Indeed, all the villagers Mrs Campion had so deplored were invited, as well as Charlotte and Sidney’s friends from Sanditon, and several more eminent figures from further afield – all in all, making for a considerably larger guest list than Charlotte had anticipated, and causing the ushers grave concern as to whether everyone would fit in the little church.

Still, these were minor detractions, and all the villagers who came did not hesitate to proclaim Charlotte the most radiant bride they had ever beheld, and Sidney the most handsome groom; and as for all the fine lords and ladies who were there, it was evident that Miss Heywood was making very desirable connections with this marriage. Yet these noble visitors did not stand on ceremony, and were perfectly happy to condescend to drink and mix with the lower classes as if they were among their own kind. Yes, the villagers had no qualms in pronouncing this wedding to be the event of the season.

After the formalities were concluded, all the guests were invited to the Heywoods’ residence to join in a feast in the newlyweds’ honour, where the festivities continued for some time, finally giving Mr Crowe the opportunity to see just how lively things could get in Willingden. So many accepted this invitation that most of the guests were obliged to mingled outside; happily, the day turned out to be mostly fine, so this arrangement was an acceptable one.

Most of the guests were in high spirits: Tom wasted no time in advertising the excellencies of Sanditon to all around him; Arthur made a special exception to his stated rule of partaking only moderately of whatever food and drink was on offer; and John made it his mission to distract and entertain Georgiana with so much frivolity and gaiety as to make her forget her heartache – at least for a time – and in this he was largely successful.

As for the children, while the boys embarked on some game of rough and tumble, all the Heywoods’ youngest daughters crowded around Lord Babington, who knelt down to show them the little baby cradled in his arms. She was still only a few weeks old, and the assembled girls exclaimed in hushed tones as they reached out with gentle fingers to feel her soft cheeks, to touch her little fists and stroke the light fuzz on the top of her head. The baby peered up at her admirers, not used to so many faces crowding her field of vision, then rewarded them with a wide yawn, much to their delight.

Esther looked on with a contented expression from her seat nearby; indeed, her eyes never seemed to stray from her daughter for very long at a time. She was willing enough to permit others to hold the baby for a while, but seemed happiest when she held her daughter safe in her own arms, gazing down at the helpless, dependent figure with a kind of awe in her eyes.

The baby suddenly began to cry and Esther stiffened in her chair; but Lord Babington lifted the baby to his shoulder, beginning to rock her gently as he shushed her, and Esther relaxed again. No one was more adept at soothing the baby than Lord Babington; he eagerly seized every opportunity he could to hold his little girl, smiling at her in delight, telling her long, fascinating, entirely made-up tales or simply gazing at her silently with a look of mingled pride, tenderness and protectiveness.

In fact, the devotion of the two of them to the child was such that their nanny hardly knew what to do with herself – though she consoled herself with the thought that there were bound to be more children soon enough, given the way the Lord and Lady looked at each other. One thing, at least, was certain: if there had been any deficiency of love in the upbringing of either of her parents, there would be none in this child’s: both parents would make quite sure of that.

By nearly every measure, then, the day could be considered a success, although from Charlotte’s perspective, success was assured the moment she and Sidney were declared husband and wife. For, as much as she enjoyed the rest of the celebrations, nothing could bring her greater joy than to look into Sidney’s eyes, gazing back at her with such love that it took her breath away, and know that they were finally, truly united to one another for the rest of their earthly lives. And, as lovely as it was to have all their friends and family there, and as much as she wanted to stop and talk with them all, she was simply unable to give any of them her full attention while she could feel Sidney by her side, his presence so close to her. For now, after so long thinking he must belong to another, she was the one who could lean close and touch his arm, who could smile at him as boldly as she pleased, who could let her gaze linger on him for as long as she chose. And now it was her hand he reached for to draw through his arm, her cheek he lightly brushed with his breath as he leaned down to murmur in her ear, her side he always returned to.

It was such a profound relief to be able to display their love openly, when for so long it had burned in secret, something to be suppressed and resisted. But just as it was a delight to glory in their love in front of everyone, so it was a delight when they bade farewell to all their dear friends and family, when Sidney took her hand and they walked together through the crowd of cheering well-wishers, and when he handed her up into the privacy of their carriage.

And as their carriage set off, leaving everyone else behind, and Sidney reached to draw her close, she sensed that as wonderful as their wedding day had been, tomorrow would be even better.


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, if you would like some music to accompany this chapter, I would suggest "The Scent of Love" from The Piano: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5CtQ8Hnh-c  
> To be honest, I'm not sure it completely fits but I love this piece.

As much as anyone else, Alison had rejoiced to see her sister so happy, so radiant with love, and to see that love reflected in Sidney’s face as he gazed at Charlotte.

Still, she had not been able to prevent herself from wondering, during some parts of the service, how it might feel to be the one getting married, to be the one gazing rapturously up at the man she loved more than anyone. Her eyes, when they wandered from contemplating the happy couple beside her, had invariably been drawn to a certain face seated toward the back of the church, although as quickly as they rested on him, they would always dart away again; for it seemed that whenever she glanced his way, he always happened to be looking back at her. She thought he did not look much changed by his time in London, other than being even handsomer than she remembered – if that were possible.

Alison saw Mr Stringer briefly after the service, but she was distracted with the duties she must perform, and all around them was so noisy and busy that there was no time to say much before she was obliged to take her leave. It was not at all how she had imagined their reunion might be, and she would have felt sadly flat afterward were it not for his confirmation that he planned to come back to the Heywoods’ after the service. Her mood was considerably lightened upon hearing this; their brief, hurried interchange was not to be their only chance to talk, then. Perhaps they would have opportunity for a more substantial conversation later.

Or perhaps not; for apparently hers was not the only eye Mr Stringer had caught, as she discovered when she overheard two of her sisters in close conversation soon after their return from the wedding ceremony, Sarah saying to Maria in a decided voice, “Mr Parker’s well enough, I suppose, but _I_ prefer Mr Stringer.”

And later in the day, after the bride and groom had departed and things were beginning to settle down, she came upon three of her sisters gathered around Mr Stringer, talking to him animatedly as he sat in their midst, listening to them patiently, a little smile on his face. Some of the guests were starting to leave, but Mr Stringer showed no signs of preparing to depart, in spite of – or perhaps because of – the relentless chatter Alison’s sisters were subjecting him to. Evidently they had discovered Mr Stringer’s famed listening skills for themselves, and were putting them to the ultimate test.

Taking pity on him, Alison decided to grant him a reprieve from their exuberance and addressed her sisters crisply. “Come on, now, girls – let’s go and play some games outside. I’m sure poor Mr Stringer has heard quite enough about the books you’ve been reading and how many trees you climbed over the summer.”

After the inevitable protest from the girls and Alison’s look in response that showed she meant to brook no opposition, the older girls began to move toward the door, making their way outside.

“You are too polite, Mr Stringer,” she admonished him as she held out her hand to her youngest sister, Harriet, who still lingered by Mr Stringer’s side. “It only takes the slightest sign of encouragement for these girls to hold you captive for two hours or more. You must be firm with them; it’s the only way.”

“I don’t mind a bit, miss,” he replied with a grin, as Harriet pulled on his hand and begged him to join the rest of them outside; and perhaps he spoke the truth, for instead of politely declining Harriet’s urgent plea, he permitted her to lead him out, thus defeating the purpose of Alison’s intervention.

They found a quiet area a good distance away from any other people, so as not to disturb the older, surlier guests who might not appreciate their yells and shrieks of laughter, and played a few games, with Mr Stringer generally appointed to the position of adjudicator or referee. After a little while, the girls abruptly decided they were worn out from all the running and the little group sat down on the grass, Harriet sitting possessively by Mr Stringer. And now, having already shared with him nearly all the details about their lives, the girls evidently thought it was time to ask him all the details of his own, and proceeded to pelter him with as many questions as Alison would permit until Maria asked boldly, “Mr Stringer, do you have a wife yet?”

“Maria!” scolded Alison, even as she felt her own cheeks redden. At least her embarrassment could be attributed to her sister’s impertinence.

Mr Stringer, however, did not seem to have taken offence; he merely responded, “No I don’t, young miss.”

Maria cast a guilty look at Alison, before turning back to Mr Stringer with a mischievous expression and saying in a rush, “Because Sarah would like to marry you when she’s older!” Having delivered this startling intelligence, she ran away giggling to hide behind a nearby bush, while Sarah went bright red and exclaimed indignantly at being thus betrayed, vehemently denying ever having said such a thing.

Mr Stringer pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, then, keeping an admirably straight face, responded gravely, “I’m afraid I don’t think that’ll be possible, miss.”

Their attention arrested, Maria came back out from behind the bush while Sarah and Harriet sat up straighter. “Why not?” demanded Harriet.

“Because I’m hoping to be married soon,” Mr Stringer replied, unleashing a torrent of excited questions and speculations from the girls about whether he had someone in mind and, if so, who it might be. Mr Stringer shook his head and raised his hands defensively while Alison, usually so quick to check her sisters’ impertinence, for once sat still and silent, apparently struck dumb as the girls begged him for more details.

No more details were to be forthcoming; Mr Stringer managed to find a break in their barrage of questions to say apologetically, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more. I don’t yet know if she’ll have me.”

It was not to be borne. Alison’s feelings threatened to overwhelm her, and she rose as unobtrusively as she could and fled to a grove of trees a little distance away, leaving Mr Stringer to endure her sisters’ persecution alone. Once safely within the shelter of the trees, she paced in some agitation as she strove to calm her racing heart and assemble her thoughts into some semblance of order. She did not know whether to be excited or utterly cast down; did he speak of her, or someone else? Could it really be that now, when their acquaintance was all but at an end, he had come to proffer his suit? Or – her brow blackened at the thought – was there some other woman in London she knew nothing about? How long had he been there for? She performed a quick mental calculation. Surely it was not long enough for him to have formed an attachment already? But then – she remembered how short a time it had taken for her to fall in love with him and her spirits sank.

If it was another woman – well! She felt a tide of rising indignation within her. How fickle he must be! And how unfeeling toward Alison to talk so in front of her. Unless – she turned sharply. Did he really have no idea of her feelings for him? Had she been so successful in her attempts to give nothing away that he had truly never guessed? Well, if so, at least she had been spared that humiliation. And if he really had no idea of the way she felt then he must be unspeakably dense, and she wanted nothing to do with him in any case.

Oh – she pressed her hands to her cheeks and turned again in her restless course. She must regain her composure; she would have to return sometime soon to join the guests, and then she would need to carry on as if nothing had happened, and converse politely, and perhaps bid Mr Stringer a calm, untroubled goodbye.

She did not know if she could do it.

As it happened, however, she did not need to. She was still standing in the grove of trees and had nearly reached a state of tolerable composure when Mr Stringer found her there.

“Your sisters are very persistent,” he said by way of greeting, as she jerked her head round in some alarm at his arrival.

“Mr Stringer – what are you doing here?” she asked, startled into rudeness.

He shifted uneasily. “I came to see if you were alright, miss – you took off so abruptly just before, and I wasn’t sure if … if what we were talking about had … distressed you in some way.”

“What? Why would it distress me?” she asked, too quickly, too loudly.

He changed position again where he stood, looking as awkward as she felt. “Well, I hope it wouldn’t distress you, because it’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, and all the effort she had put into calming herself was undone in an instant. Her heart was suddenly beating a furious rhythm inside her chest, her head seemed to be spinning slightly and all her irrational anger toward him evaporated as quickly as it had come.

He squared his shoulders and his face took on a determined, almost obstinate expression. “Miss Heywood,” he said, haltingly, “I know I don’t have much to offer you. I’m no gentleman – you know that. But I’ve got that apprenticeship you know about, and I’ve also had several commissions of work come through since the royal visit to Sanditon, and I’m hopeful that in time I’ll be doing pretty well for myself.” He looked away, then back at her. “Truth is, miss, I had planned to wait until I had more to my name before declaring myself, but I realised …” He shook his head. “I couldn’t take the risk of you falling in love with some other man without ever knowing how I felt. And … well …” He hesitated, and his gaze on her grew in intensity. “Truth be told, miss, I didn’t want to wait. I may not be a gentleman, but I’m a man like any other. I still feel things the same as any man, and I know how I feel about you, Miss Heywood.” His eyes dropped. “I know you could do far better than me, with your birth, your beauty, your wit, but I was hoping …” He looked up again, and this time she could see the brightness in his eyes. “I was hoping there might still be a chance for me – that you might consider doing me the honour of becoming my wife.”

She laughed – a sound of pure joy. She could not have wiped the ridiculous smile from her face if she had tried. “You are mistaken, Mr Stringer,” she replied, and he looked back uncertainly, her words seemingly contradicted by her demeanour. “You are not a man like any other. For I am quite sure that no other man could make me as happy as you.”

A smile lit up his face and she could see his tension melting away, yet still he lingered where he stood. “Does this mean you accept my hand?” he asked, as if he couldn’t quite believe it could be so easy.

She looked at him, feeling suddenly very bold, and replied in a voice that sounded quite unlike her own, “Come here, Mr Stringer, and I will show you.”

He saw something in her face, then, and his own expression changed. He hesitated no longer, but came to her; and she reached up and drew his face down toward hers, and showed him her answer; and his arms wrapped around her tightly as he showed her, in turn, the depth of his feelings for her. And there they stayed for some time, as a light breeze gently stirred their clothing and every now and then a leaf danced gracefully down around them, the time passing so sweetly that even when a light rain began to fall, neither seemed inclined to move. Gradually they came to recall where they were, and to realise how much time had passed; and then, moving slowly, as if in a kind of dream, they left the cover of the trees and made their way back to the house.

\---

The next day Mr Heywood was surprised to learn that one of the guests from the wedding had stayed the night in Willingden and desired a private audience with him; and, shortly after that, the whole family learned that no sooner had the eldest daughter been successfully wed than the next daughter was planning to follow her example. Sarah looked disconsolate at the news, Harriet was happy simply to have Mr Stringer there again and did not fully understand what all the commotion was about, while Maria turned impetuously to her parents and asked if they might all be allowed to go to Sanditon the following year.

“Certainly not!” her father replied emphatically. “I have half a mind not to allow any of you to visit there ever again. Who’s to look after your mother and me in our old age if you’ve all married and left us?”

As for John, he was delighted to hear the news, embracing each of them in turn with hearty congratulations, before winking at Alison and saying, “What did I tell you, Allie?”

Mr Stringer raised his brows inquisitively and John threw up his hands dramatically as he addressed his sister, “Why, I knew there was bound to be _some_ poor fool out there desperate enough to offer for you!”

“Let us only hope there is an equally desperate female somewhere who might consent to have _you_ ,” Alison retorted.

John merely laughed and said, “It’s good to have you back, Allie.”

\---

So one engagement was concluded and another begun, before the little village of Willingden had even begun to recover from the first wedding. Tom was perplexed, but glad nonetheless, at the sudden increase of interest in Sanditon from young females of marriageable age from that part of the country. Nor were young women the only ones eager to visit Sanditon; John was already planning when he might return, talking vaguely of the amazing seascapes to be captured there, and the younger Heywood daughters had formed a fixed ambition to visit when they were older, seeing the good fortune that had befallen their older sisters there.

As for Charlotte and Alison, the two sisters found themselves happier than they could have imagined before the summer, the future full of promise for both of them. And although each sister was truly happy for the other, each was privately convinced that no one else could be as happy as she; for how could anyone compare to the man she loved?


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has become a bit like Lord of the Rings, in terms of having multiple scenes that seem like they could be the last one. But this is truly the final one, I promise! The ending no one sought or asked for - here it is. Thank you once again for making it this far! My husband says this is the second best fanfic he's ever read, which I would take as a great compliment if he hadn't read only two fanfics. Then again, it's not his typical genre, so I'll give him a pass. Anyway, enough rambling, or this intro will end up being longer than the chapter itself...

It was a cold morning in Sanditon as Lady Denham walked along the seafront, out on her daily promenade. She gave a brief nod of acknowledgement as she saw Mrs Davies approach, then instantly regretted it as that woman made a direct line to her side. Mrs Davies, a relative newcomer to the town, was a useful source of information on the latest happenings in London; it was just a pity about all the extraneous details.

“Lady Denham! Congratulations on the sale of Denham Place!” Mrs Davies said brightly as she came up. “I hear it’s finally been sold – to a Mr Worth, is that right?”

“That’s right,” said Lady Denham briefly, permitting herself a small smile of satisfaction. “Do you know him?”

“Oh yes!” Mrs Davies replied eagerly.

“What can you tell me of him?”

Mrs Davies launched into a long, detailed account, from which Lady Denham gleaned three pertinent facts: he was quite old, very rich, and lately married.

“Oh!” Lady Denham responded with some interest. “Lately married, eh? Is this his second wife?”

“Yes, that’s right – it all happened very quickly, I believe. A very pretty young lady, but apparently from quite an obscure background. I cannot quite recall her name – was it Caroline? No – Claire? Oh, it was something along those lines … only give me a few moments, I’m sure I will remember it …”

Lady Denham went quite still and fixed the other woman with a terrible stare.

“Clara?” she asked in a sharp voice.

“That’s it!” Mrs Davies smiled in relief at having remembered the name, and asked Lady Denham if she had any knowledge of her. But Lady Denham, for once in her life, had been left entirely bereft of words.

**THE END**


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